Once Upon a December
by la lisboa
Summary: Once meets Anastasia. Regina thinks her revenge on Snow and Charming is finally complete when she attacks the castle and tears their family apart. But ten years later, the young servant boy she let live may know the key to taking back the kingdom: the princess no one believes survived. AU Gremma.
1. Far Away, Long Ago

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize from the show or movie belongs to me.

 **A/N:** So...I'm back. Happy New Year! Here - have a new story, full of feels, angst, and a large helping of Gremma. If you're wondering where I've been for the past year and a half, check out my author page.

This story is similar to I See the Light, in that it is AU and a reimagination of an animated movie (Anastasia). It's one that I've had on the backburner for a long time now (mostly in the plot bunny stage). Since I couldn't convince anyone to write the story for me, my 2016 goal is to bring the story to life myself.

A huge thank you to my ever-faithful beta **Melissa** , and to **Kristy** , who helps me plot like it's her job and contributed the first line of the story. Couldn't have done it without you!

* * *

It was usually quiet this early in the morning. For as long as he could remember, only the echoes of his footsteps against the marble floors broke the silence as the light peeked over the horizon. But this morning was different. And once he remembered what day it was, he realized why.

He found her in the music room, her back to the door, her hands running up and down the ivory keys. There was no music in front of her, but he knew she didn't need it. This was the song she always played with her mother, the one that he often wondered if Snow had written herself.

The one he'd always wanted to learn, but was too shy to ask anyone to teach him.

Emma might have been his best friend, and her parents had welcomed him with open arms, but he could never be one of them. She was eight today, and he was…anyone's best guess. They were royalty, and he had been found in the stables one winter. They ruled the kingdom, and he served in the kitchens. Her parents were the only ones he had ever known, but that didn't make them _his._

"Good morning, Graham!"

It hadn't always been his name, but it was now. He had no memory of his parents, no idea what name they had given him when he'd been born, if they'd given him one. But ever since he had taken refuge in the castle, ever since Snow had named him after his favorite cracker, he'd been Graham.

"Good morning, Prin –" He glanced around; the room was empty. "Emma," he corrected himself. He knew how she hated being called Princess; it was one of the many things he liked about her. But even though her parents insisted he could call them and their daughter by any name he chose, he always made sure to address them formally in the presence of others.

"And happy birthday," he added quickly.

Emma beamed. "Thanks!" She scooted over to make room for him on the piano bench. After a moment's hesitation, he sat down next to her.

"You're up early," he noted.

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep – too excited."

"Have you found your presents yet?" Emma always played hide and seek on her birthday. He'd watched her find her father every year, though no longer with her mother's help.

"Not yet," Emma said. "It's too early – no one's awake yet."

"Oh." _Right._

"Do you – do you want to play with us this year?"

Graham felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. Even though they had been friends for years, it still made him uncomfortable whenever Emma invited him to join in the family activities. He wanted to be part of her world, but he knew his place.

"I can't," he replied, shaking his head. "We have a lot to do today in the kitchens. It's a big day, as you may know," he added, trying to make her laugh. He hated disappointing her.

To his relief, Emma smiled. "I understand," she said. "Maybe next year."

"Maybe," he echoed.

Maybe next year, he'd have the courage to say yes.

* * *

"Eight – nine – ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

Emma finished counting and turned around. As expected, the ballroom was empty. She ran to the door and looked around. Both hallways were deserted, but there were more hiding places to the right. "You can't hide forever!" she called as she raced down the hall. "I will find you!"

 _I will always find you._

Emma found her mother in the study. "Don't tell me anything," she warned Snow as she walked over to the desk Snow was sitting at to give her mother a hug.

"Wouldn't dream of it, birthday girl," her mother answered, smiling. "But, you know, the sooner you find him, the sooner you can open presents."

"I'm a big girl now, Mama," Emma insisted. "Presents aren't everything."

Snow laughed. "You're so grown up!"

"Right, I'm _eight_ ," Emma said pointedly as she made her way around the room, glancing behind all the curtains. The study was always a good place to hide because there were so many available spots. She finished with the curtains and then dropped to her stomach, looking under the couch.

"Any luck?" Snow asked from the other side of the room.

"No," Emma replied, rolling onto her other side to face her mother. "Not yet any—hey! I said not to tell me anything!"

"I didn't tell you anything—" Snow began as Emma marched over to the desk. Emma pointed to the ground where she had seen her father hiding. Snow glanced down. "Oh. But I didn't _say_ anything."

Emma tilted her head, indicating that she wanted Snow to move. Once Snow was out of the way, Emma crept toward her father. He might know that she was in the room, but he wouldn't know when she would pounce on him.

 _One, two…_

"Boo!"

Emma shrieked as Charming rolled out from under the desk. "Da- _ad._ I'm supposed to find _you._ "

He smiled. "And I never doubted you would." He wrapped his arms around her. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, Dad," she said as she hugged him back.

"Are you ready to see what's in here?" Snow opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"Yes, please!"

Snow handed Emma the box. Emma held it up to her ear and shook it, trying to guess what was inside. She couldn't hear anything. "No noise? What is it?"

Charming chuckled. "Open it up and see."

Emma tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a smooth, latched black box. She undid the latch with trembling fingers, and immediately gasped. "Wow!" she exclaimed as she pulled out the gold necklace with a heart at the center. "It's beautiful!"

Her parents grinned. "Read what it says," Snow instructed.

Emma looked at the heart charm. "I will always find you." She threw her arms around her parents. "Thank you, I love it!" After Snow and Charming hugged her back, Emma pulled away and offered the necklace to Snow. "Will you put it on, please?"

"I will," Snow began, her eyes twinkling. "But there's something else you should see first."

Emma's eyes widened as she saw her father pulling another box out of his pocket. "This is not just any necklace, Emma," Charming said as he gave her the second black box. "It opens something very special."

Emma took the box from her father, glancing at it uncertainly. This box seemed to be latched just like the other one. She dug her fingernail under the latch, clicked the box open, and pulled out something gold and circular. It had a heart on the cover, just like the heart on her necklace.

"What is it?"

"You'll just have to open it," Snow said, smiling.

Emma inspected the circular box, and then placed the tip of the heart necklace into the slot. "Now what?"

"You have to turn it," Charming told her.

Emma turned the necklace to the right, and the top of the circular box popped open. "A music box!" she exclaimed as the melody began to play. She held the box to her ear and listened, beaming when she recognized the lilting tune. "It's our song!"

"Yes," Snow replied. "So you'll always be able to play it, even when I'm gone."

Emma's smile faltered. "Gone? Where are you going, Mama?"

"Oh – nowhere yet, darling," Snow answered quickly, pulling Emma into a hug and kissing her hair. "I just meant in general. I might have some trips coming up that will take me away from the castle for a few days, that's all."

"But you're coming back?"

"Of course."

"Besides," Charming joined in. "If she doesn't, then we'll send out a search party. You know what we always say." He pointed to the heart charm.

 _I will always find you._

* * *

Later, when they're lying in bed together, he realized she had tears in her eyes.

"Snow," he whispered, snaking his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer. "What's wrong?"

"Oh," she sighed. "I just…" He waited while she collected herself and then turned around to face him. "Do you think Emma had a good birthday?"

Charming frowned. "Of course she did." Didn't Snow remember the way Emma's eyes had lit up when she'd seen the music box, or the way that Emma had positively glowed when Snow finally did the clasp on the necklace and put it on? Or the way Emma had clapped her hands in delight at the cake and the dancing at the party?

"I'm just…" He saw her swallow back more tears. "I'm so scared, David."

He pressed his lips together. "Me, too."

"What if this is the last one?"

He took both of her hands in his and kissed them. _It won't be_ , part of him wanted to say. But the other part of him, the more practical part, the one that knew that empty words of comfort would have the opposite effect on his wife, stayed quiet. She had heard Regina's threat, too.

"Snow…" Charming trailed off. He had no idea what to say.

"Just – promise me something."

"Anything."

She drew a rattling breath. "Promise me that she won't be alone. We can't leave her alone. One of us has to be with her."

He heard what she didn't say. That she didn't expect both of them to survive. That this might be one of their last nights together. That they had no idea whether being _with Emma_ meant being with her in life or – he couldn't even think it.

So he didn't. Instead, he tightened his grip around Snow's hands, drawing her into his chest, pressing his chin against the top of her head. No matter what Regina took from them, she could never take this, the love he felt for his wife and daughter.

"I promise."

* * *

It happened suddenly.

One moment there was silence, and the next, the screams and shouts of a palace under siege. He imagined her in full war regalia, a high-collared dress that billowed behind her, flattering every curve. Her make-up would be severe, with dark lines that made her look sinister and yet beautiful at the same time. She would have her trademark fireballs glowing in each hand as she blasted her way through the castle, in search of her mortal enemies.

He rolled over and up into a sitting position, brushing dust off his suit jacket before standing. He crept to the edge of the dungeon, remaining in the shadows. He didn't fear her, just wanted to remain out of the way. This was her moment, after all of those agonizing years of waiting. Now that she was finally willing to die to win, to tether her own life to her victory, she had enough power to defeat them.

He knew what she was going to do, could see it so clearly in his mind's eye that he hardly needed a front row seat to the action. She was so like her mother, with her unquenchable thirst for violence and revenge. He could see the fear on the guards' faces the moment before she killed them, the fear on everyone's faces as she eliminated everyone in her path. She was an unstoppable force when she wanted to be.

And he knew what _they_ would be doing; they would be scrambling out of bed, drawing swords and arrows, hurriedly waking their child as they ran for safety. They had to know that defending the castle was useless, that it was best to cut their losses and run, find a way to retake the castle later. Swords and arrows were no use against magic. They could not surrender and leave themselves to Regina's mercy. They could not die and leave their young daughter on her own.

Too bad for them, she would have sealed all the exits.

Because she was his student, and she knew that the first thing about catching prey was making sure that it couldn't escape.

Too bad for her, he would have given them another way out.

Because this might have been her show, but it was still _his_ future. And when it came to his own future, no one was as invested as he.

The seeds had been planted – quite literally, at that. He trusted that the boy would figure out the riddle, would realize that the magic bean would open a portal to another world. He'd been watching the boy for years, ever since the youngster had moved into the castle. He saw the way the boy looked at the young princess; he would do anything to protect her and her parents.

The screams grew louder, the yells more frantic. Footsteps thundered above him as everyone dashed for the exits. But they wouldn't find any relief. She would slaughter them all – enslave them, possibly, but more likely slaughter them. She couldn't risk sparing the lives of people who might remain loyal to her enemies.

Unless she managed to kill _them_. Then she could do whatever she wanted.

For her sake, he hoped she succeeded. For his sake, he was rooting for the boy.

* * *

"Graham!"

He turned toward the sound of her voice, relieved that he had found her, but scared that she was still in the palace. His last hope, that she had managed to find a way out, was gone. Emma ran toward him, Snow and Charming right behind her. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining, as she reached for his hand.

"We're running for cover, come on!"

"No!" Graham tugged on her hand. "You can't get out. The Evil Queen has sealed the exits."

He saw the color drain from Emma's face at these words. She stared at him, eyes wide, silently begging him to take it back. He hated making her feel this way. She shifted her gaze to her parents, and Graham followed suit, disheartened to see that they were just as alarmed at this news as Emma was. If they had any idea this attack was coming, they clearly hadn't expected it to be this bad.

Snow recovered first. "Are you sure?" she asked. He nodded. Snow immediately turned to Charming. "We have to tell everyone – we can't let them die here."

"There are other ways out," Graham said. "The servants' corridors; the dungeons. She doesn't know the castle the way we do."

Snow's expression cleared slightly. "Do you know a way out?"

Graham nodded again, feeling the bean growing damp in his sweaty hand. "I know another way. Follow me!"

He led them down the hall to the dining room, where the passages that led to the kitchen were. He didn't quite know what to do with the bean in his hand. The strange man's instructions hadn't exactly been clear. If the bean created some sort of door, how big was the door going to be? How long would it take to make? He hoped the kitchen passages were still open; he knew he could get out that way.

Emma's hand was still in his other one, her fingers cold and clammy. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, but it was hard to make her feel better when he was so scared himself. What if they couldn't get out? What if this was the last time they saw each other?

"It's going to be okay," Emma murmured, so softly he wondered if he had only imagined it. "We're going to be okay."

He wanted so badly to believe her.

They burst into the empty dining room. Graham dropped Emma's hand and rushed to the furthest wall from the door. He was about to push open the hidden door to the servants' corridor, when a shout echoed off the walls that made him freeze.

"She's here, she's here! The Evil Queen is here!"

Emma gasped. "What do we do?"

It was now or never. Graham threw the bean to the ground, ignoring their questioning stares, as he thought furiously about where he wanted to go.

 _Take us somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the Evil Queen. Take us somewhere safe. Take us somewhere safe._

There was a blinding flash of light as the portal opened. He saw Snow and Charming exchange nervous glances. Emma stared at him, confused.

"Where did you get this bean?" Charming wanted to know. "Where does this portal go?"

"Somewhere safe," he replied. "And I got it-" But before he could finish, he was lifted off his feet. He had no time to prepare himself before he smacked his head into the stained wood as he slid across the floor.

"Graham!" he heard Emma scream. "Graham!"

He heard footsteps, then a hand on his back. "Graham." It was Snow. "Graham, can you hear me?" He tried to shake his head, not because he couldn't hear her, but because she couldn't be here. She had to go. The portal wouldn't be open forever.

"Emma, go!" Snow yelled. "We're coming."

 _Go,_ he echoed. _Go, save yourself!_ He tried to open his eyes, but the pain blinded him.

"No!" Emma cried.

"Go, now!" Charming shouted. "We will find you!"

He managed to lift his head off the ground. His vision was blurred, but he opened his eyes just in time to see Charming push Emma into the portal. For a moment, the light completely illuminated her; then, she was gone.

His first feeling was relief: relief that she had escaped, that Emma at least was out of the castle. But relief was quickly replaced with dread. Where had the portal gone? What if it hadn't taken her somewhere safe? What if they couldn't find her again?

"No!" a new voice screamed. He heard flames, then shouts, followed by two sickening thuds as Snow and Charming joined him on the ground. He strained his neck, trying to twist around to get a better view of them.

What if they didn't survive?

He knew what it was like to grow up without parents. That constant feeling that something was missing, that you were lost, somehow; an orphan. He knew what it was like to cry yourself to sleep at night, to comfort yourself after a nightmare, to have the only hugs you receive be your own. That sense of loss would never go away.

He didn't want the same thing to happen to Emma.

"Where is she?" the Evil Queen demanded. "Where did that portal go?"

"Somewhere safe," Snow replied defiantly. "Somewhere you can't hurt her." Even now, Graham admired her bravery. "You will _never_ hurt her."

He opened his mouth to shout a warning as the Evil Queen lunged at Snow. But before she could reach her, before he could say anything, Graham saw the flash of Charming's sword. Graham knew that Charming was a talented swordsman, but he was still no match for the Evil Queen's magic. There was no way his blade could damage the fireballs.

"David!"

Snow's scream echoed around the room as the slashes appeared across Charming's chest. Graham struggled to pull himself into a sitting position; the room spun whenever he moved his head, and his entire chest ached. He watched as Charming staggered and fell, blood gushing from his wounds. Snow began to move toward him, but the Evil Queen plunged her hand into Snow's chest, stopping her in her tracks. When she drew her hand back, there was something bright red in her hand. It took him a moment to realize it was a heart.

"No…" Graham gasped. He had to stop her. Graham screwed his eyes shut against the pain as he pushed himself onto his knees and began to crawl toward the Evil Queen. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, trying to stay awake, trying not to throw up. The pain in his head was nauseating. But he had to make it; he couldn't let this happen to Snow. To Emma. To Charming.

To himself.

"Stop," he managed to say, tugging on the back of the Evil Queen's robes. "Leave them alone!"

"What's this?" the Evil Queen cooed, turning around to look at him. She leaned over and slid her hand under his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her other hand was empty. He blinked, confused. Had he only imagined the heart?

"A child!" She laughed derisively. "Let me tell you something, pet," she said, keeping her hand under his chin. "No one tells me what to do."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not your _pet,_ " he retorted, with courage he did not feel.

He expected her to reply in kind, or maybe to strike him again. But instead she did nothing, continuing to stare at him with an expression he couldn't read. Her eyes scanned over him. "You remind me of someone," she muttered, though more to herself than to him. She smiled widely. "Come with me," she said, extending her hand.

He hesitated. What did she want to do to him? And if he didn't go with her – what would she do to them?

"Come, child." Her tone sounded almost warm. She shook her hand slightly at him. "I'll take care of you now. I won't make you work anymore. You're much too smart to be a mere servant."

"I – I don't—"

"You opened that portal," she continued. "I saw you do it. You're an impressive young man. You deserve more than this."

He could barely hear what she was saying. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. "But what about…?" He turned his head as much as the pain would allow, trying to see Snow and Charming.

"Oh, it's too late for them, dear," the Evil Queen said. "Nothing left to do but die."

His insides turned to ice. His eyes fell on Snow. Her eyes were closed, her body still. There was a pool of blood near her side, but he knew it hadn't come from her. Slowly, unwillingly, he forced himself to follow the trail of blood to Charming, who lay as still as his wife.

"Come," the Evil Queen repeated. He felt her hand on his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn't realized he was crying. He continued to stare at Emma's parents, not wanting to leave. What if there was a chance they were still alive? What if he could still save them?

How could he have failed her? How could he have failed them all?

His world began to spin, the sickening pain from his head causing him to double over. He heaved, trying to rid himself of the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He pressed his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. He was vaguely aware of the Evil Queen's hands on his shoulders, of her half-leading, half-dragging him away, as he gave in to the darkness. His last thought was of Emma.

 _I'll never see her again._

* * *

 **A/N:** If you're reading this, please take a moment to drop me a review. I live for the feedback of others.


	2. No One Told Me

**Disclaimer:** I still own nada.

 **A/N:** Another month, another chapter. Thank you so, so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and followed/favorited the first chapter. I'm glad that so many people are interested in this story. You seriously have no idea how much that means to me. You're the reason I write.

 **A/N:** Thank you to **Melissa** , for being my spectacular beta bee, and **Kristy** , for being my cheerleader.

* * *

It was time.

It was strange to think of time when it mattered so little to him. He looked exactly the same as he had a century ago, never mind a decade. But somehow, he knew, this time, this anniversary, would be different.

He'd watched her terrorize what had once been Snow and Charming's kingdom for several long, agonizing years. They weren't agonizing because of the pain – no, he was more than comfortable with the pain and suffering of others. It was seeing the toll that her torment had taken on the boy, that sad, sweet boy who'd once worked in the kitchens. The boy who could be the difference to a life in the shadows, working for _her,_ or a life in the open, working for whoever would pay the highest price. As it was now, the boy was not her only slave.

He'd watched the boy from afar, watched as the child grew into a man, something he had never seen his own son do. As a boy, he had always been reserved, his love for the young princess never fully expressed. But now he was downright depressing. He kept to himself, with only a dog for company. The light had long since gone out of his deep blue eyes, hidden behind a haze of despair.

It could have been yesterday that he'd found their bodies. The dining hall was abandoned, as was most of the castle. He had been picking his way through the carnage, half looking for her, and half admiring her work. He'd stumbled upon them by accident, and at once, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He'd run his hands through the telltale dust on the floor, dust that could only have come from one place. As natural as the dust felt beneath his fingers, he couldn't help but feel that she had made a terrible mistake in murdering Snow White.

He knew what he had to do. He'd scampered from the room, glancing down the hall for other signs of life. When he'd seen the dwarf, he'd made his move, knocking over a suit of armor. He'd quickly hidden in the shadows as the dwarf ran toward him, axe out. From the dwarf's cry and yell for his fellow men, he knew what had happened next.

And it would make all the difference in the world.

* * *

He was woken by a low whine followed by a cold nudge. Graham opened his eyes to find a pair of big green eyes staring back at him. Once the wolf saw that he was awake, she whined again and looked at the empty fireplace. Graham chuckled as he got to his feet. "Sorry, Ghost," he murmured, patting her on the head. "I didn't think it would get so cold."

He lit the fire quickly and then sat back. Ghost laid down next to him, resting her head on his knee. He stroked her head automatically, staring at the dancing flames. It was in these moments, when he sat in front of the fire with her, that he was most aware of the fact that Ghost was his only friend. The one living thing in this world he truly loved, and by whom he was loved in return. After all, they shared the same loss.

He'd found Ghost one night by chance, when he'd been looking for a way out of the castle. It couldn't have been more than a few days after the siege. He'd still been slightly dizzy after hitting his head and he'd stumbled a bit as he felt his way along the dark passage leading out of the castle from the kitchen. He'd come across several wolves, probably all looking for the same escape route that he was. At once, he'd recognized them as kindred spirits, sole survivors of the devastating attack. He knew they could find safety together.

But she had found them, too, and within seconds, she'd slaughtered all of the wolves. All except one.

At the time, he'd thought that she'd spared the wolf because she cared about him and wanted him to be happy. Because she could see how much he wanted a friend, how upset he was by the senseless killing of animals. He'd wondered if maybe, deep down, she really did love him, if she'd had any idea of his affinity for wolves. How they represented family, his first family, the only family he'd really known besides the royal one.

This had been a comforting thought ten years ago. But now he knew she'd never really loved him. She'd spared Ghost's life so that he would think she was kind, to win him over. It had never been about him at all. It always had been, was, and would be about her. Her need to control him, keep him placated and compliant. She didn't see him as a person, but an object; her possession. She owned him, and he would forever be her prisoner.

He could no longer look ahead, and instead buried his face in Ghost's hide. The dance of yellow and orange light flickered over them in a way he could not escape, hadn't been able to each time the anniversary drew near. The memories of that night still haunted him, as he suspected the memory of watching her family be slaughtered would always haunt Ghost. Two sorry, lost souls, brought together by the same loss. Both of them had lost their families; both of them had lost their best friends.

He didn't know why he communicated so well with Ghost. They never communicated in words – at least, she never replied with words. But somehow, he could sense what she was thinking, just as she could read him, even when he didn't speak. He supposed it had something to do with the wolves he'd spent time with when he was very young. Or maybe it was because Ghost wasn't an ordinary wolf, wasn't even a wolf at all, but a woman assuming her other identity for her own protection.

He hadn't known Red well growing up. She was Snow's best friend, and he often saw her coming and going from the castle, but he'd only exchanged a few words with her, and always in the context of his duties as a servant boy. But now that it was just the two of them, two survivors of the massacre, he felt he knew her better than anyone. Even better than –

His chest tightened. He lifted his head up from Ghost's body, not wanting to cry into her fur. He didn't really expect the tears to come; they so rarely did anymore. Still, he liked to be careful. Ghost sat up, too, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning into him. He wrapped one arm around her and the other around his knees, hiding his head in his elbow.

It was too painful to think about her. It brought back too many memories, both of the happier times they'd spent together, as well as what had happened the last time he'd seen her. He had no way of knowing where that portal had taken her. He used to take comfort in imagining that the portal brought her to a peaceful realm, one with meadows and flowers and sunshine. He used to imagine a kind family taking her in, a lost child, and raising her as their own. He'd imagined her happy, safe, and loved.

But the world was cruel; he knew that better than anyone. If a decade as Regina's _pet_ had taught him anything, it was that evil and darkness had the power to snuff out all of the light. Goodness hadn't protected Snow and Charming from being murdered; justice hadn't made Charming's blade more powerful than Regina's magic. And Emma's kindness might not be enough for her to find a loving family. When the world was this dark, he could only imagine her starving on the cold, rainy streets, begging for scraps of food from indifferent passersby.

He felt something wet on his cheek. For a second he wondered if the tears had come after all, but then he realized it was Ghost's cold, wet nose pressed up against his skin. He lifted his head. Her look was gentle, and yet, there was a hint of sternness. Ghost had given him many reproving stares over the years, especially when the anniversary was near.

He patted her on the head. "I know, girl," he said, sighing. "But it's just that time of year."

* * *

Regina drummed her fingers on the armrest as she waited. She couldn't understand what was taking so long; how hard was it to find some peasant and ask them why they were dancing like crazy people in the street? She rose from the chair and headed back over to the window. The commotion hadn't died down at all, and that only heightened her sense of unease. She had been in power for almost a decade now, and she had never seen anything like this. Surely the peasants knew that there was no use in rising up against her. One fireball and they would all be ashes.

"Your Majesty?"

Regina turned around. A young peasant boy stood in front of her. Regina snapped her fingers to remove his disguise, and the guard fell to his knees, bowing before his queen.

"Get up," she said impatiently. "What have you learned?"

"It's the baker's wife, Your Majesty," he began. "She has finally given birth to the triplets. There had been some concern with one of them – one came out not breathing – but they were able to save it. So now-"

"Silence!" Regina waved her hand, sending the guard flying over to the window, pressing his face up to the glass. "You think that _this_ is all because some housewife managed to pop out some sniveling brats?" She peeked around the guard's body to look out the window. The peasants were still gathering, and the jubilant mood hadn't died down. "Don't you understand what this means?" she snapped. "There's only one reason these people would be so happy, and it's not because of a baby."

"Well, three babies, Your Majest-"

Regina growled in frustration and threw the guard to the ground, placing her foot on his neck. "Did I give you the brains of a peasant boy with that costume? We haven't seen anything like this in ten years. Don't you know what day it is?" The guard began spluttering, and Regina pressed down harder on his neck. She leaned over and hissed, "Don't you realize how close we are to the anniversary? If they're planning a revolt, it will be around then."

"I'm – I'm-"

"Yes, yes, you're sorry." Regina moved her hand to his chest. "You're all sorry." She stuck her hand into his chest and yanked out his heart. The guard's eyes went wide, and her smile widened as she squeezed the heart tightly. When it was over, she opened her fist and let the dust fall over his uniform.

"Guards!" she yelled. Two of them appeared almost instantly. "Clean this up." She nudged the body on the ground. They practically tripped over themselves as they scrambled to the guard's body and began dragging him from the room. Regina slammed the door shut behind them and turned back to the window.

Was it her imagination or was the size of the crowd actually growing larger? What was the point of having guards if they couldn't do their jobs and find her the most basic information, information that was almost more critical for her protection than having guards stationed at every door? Clearly, whatever had these peasants riled up was more important than some woman managing to not die in childbirth. And if it was more important than that, it must also be more dangerous for her. She had to find out what it was, and if her guards couldn't be trusted to retrieve the information, that only left one other option.

Regina snapped her fingers, transforming her billowing, high-collared dress into a tattered peasant's smock. She ran her fingers through her hair, allowing it to hang loose over her shoulders. The color amused her; she'd never really imagined her as a blonde. Satisfied that no one would recognize her, she snapped her fingers again, reappearing in an alleyway off of the main town square.

It had been a long time since she'd mingled with the commoners. She made a point of not associating herself with them. The castle was so much more comfortable. Regina felt a twinge of unease as she stepped out from the alleyway. Even if no one would recognize her appearance, her discomfort might give her away.

"Have you heard?" A young woman came rushing up to her. Before Regina could stop her, the woman grabbed her hands, practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. "I can't believe it!"

Regina forced a smile. "No, what happened?"

"He's alive!" the woman exclaimed. "The king is alive!"

"What ki–-" Regina stopped herself mid-word. It was obvious which king. For the commoners, there was only one king.

"How – how is this possible?" Regina managed. "Is the queen – is she-"

The woman shook her head. "I don't think so. It's just the king."

 _At least_ one _of them stayed dead._

"I– I can't believe he survived." Regina made sure her tone sounded awed instead of repulsed. "I thought for sure he was dead."

 _He certainly looked dead enough to me._

"I know, I thought so, too!" the woman gushed. "Oh, but this is such wonderful news. If he's alive, then he'll come back and fight for us. He will overthrow the Evil Queen once and for all!"

"That would be…something." Regina noticed the woman giving her a strange look, and quickly added, "I just – it's been so hard for me and my family since they died. I don't know if I can get my hopes up that one of them is alive. It would be so much more devastating if the rumor isn't true-"

"Oh, it's definitely true!" the woman insisted. "It's more than a rumor."

"How do you know?" Regina asked. "Have you seen him?"

"No," she replied. "But I– I have to believe in something, you know? He would want us to hope."

Regina restrained from rolling her eyes. "I know what you mean," she said. "Thank you for telling me this. I have to get home – I'm sure my son will be overjoyed to hear this news!"

The woman smiled, and Regina tore herself away as fast as she could. She waited until the woman's back was turned before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

"The Queen requests your presence."

Graham glanced up. One of the guards was standing in the doorway. Graham decided not to point out how rude it was of the guard not to knock, seeing as the guard looked as displeased with this assignment as Graham felt.

"Fine," he replied, though he made no effort to get up. When the guard didn't retreat, Graham added, "I know how to get to the throne room, thanks."

"Sorry," the guard said, sounding anything but. "She told me not to return without you."

Graham rolled his eyes at Ghost. "Fine," he conceded. "Just give me a minute." _Or ten._

He hated being summoned. He hated seeing her guards in his quarters, the one space that he had to himself. It was just one more reminder about how little freedom he had. The least he could do was savor the remaining Regina-free moments by making the guard squirm. As powerful as it felt to be able to exert some control over something, he also hated himself for feeling that way. Regina took pleasure in the pain of others. It disgusted him that he could do the same.

He could no longer sit comfortably with this thought, so sighed and got to his feet. "Be back, girl," he mouthed to Ghost, as he followed the guard out of the room. Neither spoke on the way to the throne room, and Graham relished the last moments of silence. All too soon they were there. The guard knocked on the door, and Regina called for them to enter. Graham reluctantly followed the guard inside.

"Graham, darling," Regina said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Come here, pet." She brought one hand under his chin and tilted his head so he was meeting her eyes. Graham stayed still, keeping his expression stony. He knew better than to fight back. He'd learned long ago that resistance was futile, and the quickest way to get away was to give in.

"How are you?"

"Fine," he replied stiffly. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did, I did," she said, smiling widely. Graham pulled back, forcing her to drop her hand. He hated when she touched him, especially under his chin. He'd seen goats touched like that when he was living in the stables. He knew it was done to control them. When he moved, Regina's eyes flashed for a moment and he wondered if she would protest. But the next moment, she clasped her hands together as though it had been her idea to pull back in the first place.

"Come, sit." She led him over to the chair beside her throne. He swallowed back his objections. He remembered, once, feeling honored to sit next to her, as though she were including him. But mostly he remembered the way she abused her power, the violence she perpetrated, and the lives she stole, all while occupying this throne.

 _It's just a chair_ , he reminded himself. But the words were useless, because it _wasn't_ just a chair. It wasn't supposed to be Regina's chair. And that's what killed him most of all.

 _This would have been_ her _throne._

"I wanted to ask you something, Graham."

He cringed inwardly. He hated hearing his name, the name that Snow had given him, in Regina's voice. It just added to the list of things she had stolen from him.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently when she still hadn't spoken.

She smiled again, though he thought it looked more like a leer. "I've heard a troubling rumor."

"Oh?"

"It seems that someone has been telling the peasants that the king survived. They've got some crazy idea that he's going to come back and save them."

Graham blinked. He hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't been expecting that. It sounded like a cruel joke. Why would anyone say that Charming had survived when he hadn't? He felt a surge of anger at these peasants. Who were they to spread rumors? If they had been there, if they'd seen the blood –

"Do you know anything about this?"

It took him a moment to realize Regina was asking him and not the guard. "No," he replied tersely. "Why would I know anything about this?"

"They had to get this idea from somewhere."

Graham stared. "So you think they got it from _me_?"

"I know that things haven't always been…easy between us," Regina began. She reached for him, but Graham pulled back. She frowned. "This close to the anniversary, it can't be a coincidence. Someone wanted to stir the pot. Someone who wants to hurt me."

"That's a long list of people," he muttered.

"Silence!" Regina snapped, striking him across the cheek with such force that he toppled out of his chair. Graham refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting. He slowly got to his feet and turned to leave.

"Wait! Don't go." She grabbed his arm and spun him around. "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to hurt you. Oh, Graham," Regina continued softly, catching sight of his cheek. She raised her other hand and waved it over the wound; he felt it heal instantly. "There, that's better."

He didn't reply, but didn't draw back either, not wanting to be hit again. Healing the physical wounds only made the emotional ones worse.

"I didn't say anything to anyone," he said finally. "I wouldn't do that."

 _To them,_ he didn't add. He wouldn't insult their memory by making stories about some miraculous survival. The only thing worse than watching them die would be entertaining the idea that one had survived, only to have that flame of hope extinguished, just like everything else.

"Oh, of course you wouldn't," Regina said, brushing his chin again. "I know you'd never hurt me. I'm sorry I thought otherwise. I just – you know how this time of year is. Anything could happen, and these rumors are just so dangerous. What if they decide to act on the rumors and invade the castle? What if something happened to you?" She pulled him into a hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Graham swallowed back the lump rising in his throat. He knew she didn't really care about him, and it was delusional to think otherwise. But whenever she pretended to care, he was reminded, however unwillingly, of the first person he'd known who'd ever truly cared about him.

It had been ten years since he'd seen her. And he had no idea what he was doing without her, either.

* * *

He waited until she went to bed before creeping into the boy's room. It wasn't that he expected her to join them, but he preferred being left alone. Though he lived in the castle, he'd seen her only rarely, and he wanted to keep it that way.

She might have been asleep, but the boy wasn't. The fire was going, and the boy was sitting with his dog, his back to the door. He smiled to himself; this would be fun.

"Miss me?"

He always knew the exact moment someone recognized him, that precise point in time where it clicked, and everything related to their last meeting came rushing back. He saw it now, in the way the boy's expression darkened, the way his eyes flashed. "You!"

Rumpelstiltskin giggled. "Me!"

"What are you doing here?" Graham jumped to his feet. "Get out!"

"Now, wait a minute, dearie, what's all this anger?" he protested. "I would have thought you'd _want_ to see me after what you heard earlier."

"You think I want to see you _now_?" Graham yelled. "Where were you _then_? Where were you all those times I tried to find you, all those times I demanded to see you?"

"I don't know about these demands," he said lightly, sitting down on the floor and crossing his legs. "I always come when called." He grinned. "You just have to know my name."

"I don't care about your name," Graham said angrily. "I don't even care about you anymore. I want nothing to do with you. You knew what was going to happen, and you just let her kill them. You could have saved them. That bean could have saved all of them."

It was all coming back now, he could tell. The thoughts, the emotions the boy had bottled up for so long. He couldn't rant and rave at Regina, and wouldn't at his innocent dog, so now all the anger was directed at _him_. But he was used to accepting the angry outbursts of others; it was so common, he was more amused than anything else.

Besides, in this case, it wasn't undeserved.

"Isn't it easy to talk about saving if you're not the one doing it?" Rumpelstiltskin pressed the tips of his long fingers together. "But I did my best. Two of three isn't bad."

"Two of three is terrible!" Graham snapped. "That's two more people dead."

"Who said anything about dead? Two of three were saved."

Graham blinked. "Saved?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"But that – the only way that could be true is if–"

"–is if the rumors are correct, yes," Rumpelstiltskin finished, barely suppressing a giggle. "Indeed."

He saw the boy's expression change, that flicker of hope behind troubled eyes. It was probably the only good news he'd heard in nearly ten years. He'd been counting on that. Rumpelstiltskin smiled to himself. He could always recognize a desperate soul.

"But if Charming's alive, why hasn't he come back?" Graham muttered. "Why won't he – why can't he fight for us?"

"For _us_?" Rumpelstiltskin exclaimed. "Who said you were important enough to fight for, to die for? Why should he fight for anyone anymore?"

Graham fell silent, and he knew what the boy was thinking. The boy knew Charming, perhaps even better than he did. He'd grown up watching the king, the way he was with his wife, his daughter. The way he took care of his kingdom. And he'd been there to see the moment when the king lost everything.

Well, _almost_ everything.

"Where is she?"

"Hm?" Rumpelstiltskin touched his ear. "Speak up, dearie. My hearing's not what it used to be?"

"Where is she?" Graham repeated. "Where's Emma?"

"How should I know?" he asked. "You're the one who opened the portal. Where did you send her?"

"What do you mean? I sent her wherever the bean goes."

He laughed. "Wherever the bean goes?" he repeated. "Well, that's wherever you wanted her to go. Tell me, what did you think when you opened the portal? Which world did you send her to?"

The boy bit his lip. "I wanted her to be safe. I was thinking that she should be in a world without the Evil Queen–"

"A world without the Evil Queen?" he cackled. "You do realize, dearie, that would be precisely all of them?"

"All of them?"

"Except this one, of course." He giggled again, despite Graham's darkening expression. "So, you opened a portal and sent the princess to a world other than this one? Maybe next time, try being more specific."

"Maybe next time, _you_ should give clearer directions!" he retorted.

He shrugged. "I did what I could, dearie. Look," he continued, getting to his feet and circling around Graham. "Is she really that important? You have the king; why do you need her?"

It couldn't be done without Emma; of course, he knew that. Charming had had ten years to reclaim the throne and obviously wouldn't fight unless he had something to fight for. Surely the boy knew all this. But he wondered if the boy would say it, the other thing, the reason he needed her that wasn't just for the king's sake; he wondered if he could admit to those feelings that he'd been holding inside for so long now.

"He won't fight without her," Graham said finally. "She brings him hope."

He clapped his hands together. "In that case, only one thing left to do. You need to find her."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he replied. " _You're_ the one that lost her, so now _you're_ going to have to find her."

"But, how–"

"Enough talking!" He waved his hand, muting the boy. "My turn to talk; your turn to listen. I have something for you, something that you can use to find her. Do you want to know what it is?" When Graham still hadn't answered, he added impatiently, "You can just nod or shake your head, dearie."

He waited until the boy nodded before going on. "The fastest way to get from one world to another is to open a portal using one of these." He pulled out a small bundle and unwrapped it. "I'm sure you recognize them," he said, showing Graham the beans. "And now that you know how to use them, you should be able to find her easily. Well – somewhat easily," he added, snickering. "Unfortunately for you, you can't just say 'Take me to Emma!' since that happens to be a very common name in all the worlds."

The boy glared and pointed to his throat. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and waved his hand again.

"You know that's an impossible task," Graham protested. "How am I supposed to find her with these? I can't just go gallivanting off into these other realms. Surely they're as big as this one; they'll take a long time to search. What if _she_ notices I'm gone?"

"You'll just have to be careful then, won't you?"

He shook his head. "There must be a better way of doing this. You know magic; why can't you find her?"

"All magic comes with a price!" Rumpelstiltskin intoned. "You can't just use it to suit your every whim."

"But if you could use it to find her–"

"Who said we weren't using it to find her?" Rumpelstiltskin reached into his robes and pulled out the small, decorated box. "Do you recognize this?"

Graham frowned. "No, should I?"

"Pretty jewelry box, isn't it?" he remarked, tossing it to the boy. "It belonged to her. And since I put a spell on it, all of you have to do is show up with it in a realm. If she's there, the box will glow; if she's not, then it won't. Simple as that."

The boy turned the delicate box over with his fingers, examining the pattern. "Jewelry box?" he murmured. "Are you sure that's all this is?"

"What else could it be?" he asked impatiently. "Whatever it is, it was hers, which means the locator spell will work."

He watched as Graham continued to run his fingers over the intricate pattern. He knew this feeling well, that feeling of anticipation as he waited for someone to make a pivotal decision. He could practically see the wheels turning in the boy's head. The box and the beans were key to finding Emma. Finding Emma was key to getting Charming to fight. And getting Charming to fight was the only way to defeat the Evil Queen, once and for all.

The boy stopped tracing the pattern and looked up. "You said all magic comes with a price," he said slowly. "What do you want for this?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered gleefully. When the boy continued to stare at him questioningly, he grinned and added, "Let's just say – I'm invested in your future."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading. Please feed my muse with a review!


	3. Somewhere Down This Road

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

 **A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - your support means everything to me. Special shout-out to my anonymous reviewers **Silver wolves** , **Sarah** (x2), **Ellie** (x2), **Guest** (I'm sorry, I can't tell you Snow's not dead...and I myself am devastated about it), and **Bosslady**. You guys rock!

 **A/N:** Many thanks to Melissa for betaing and for always being ready with a useful motivational song lyric. This chapter is for anyone whose February was terrible. May your March be bright!

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but grey. He blinked, confused for a moment as he looked around at the light grey leaves on dark grey trees against a darker grey sky. Then he looked down at the list still clutched in his light grey hand. Graham chuckled. "Guess they meant that literally."

Beside him, Ghost was sniffing the grass, probably looking for food. It'd been a while since either of them had eaten, although he'd lost track of how much time had passed since they'd started jumping through worlds. Graham reached in his pocket and pulled out the jewelry box. He was surprised to see that it, unlike his own skin and Ghost's hide, still retained its color. For a moment, his heart leapt – did that mean it was glowing? But then he realized that the jewelry box was just as unremarkable as before, excepting the fact that it hadn't turned silver.

Graham sighed and put the box back in his pocket as Ghost trotted back to him, a dead squirrel in her mouth. She dropped it on the ground before him, but he shook his head; raw squirrel didn't particularly appeal. Ghost began munching on the squirrel as Graham crossed out another item on his list. _Not the world without color._

So far, the jewelry box had refused to glow in every single realm he'd visited. Wonderland, the land without magic, Neverland, and now the world without color – none of them triggered the jewelry box's spell. More than once he'd wondered whether Rumpelstiltskin had tricked him and hadn't placed any spell on the box at all. But Graham also believed him when he said he was _invested in his future_ , whatever that meant. It wasn't much of an investment if the box didn't actually work.

Still, it was disheartening. More than half of the beans were gone, and he hadn't found a realm with Emma. He supposed it was possible that she wasn't in _any_ of the realms on the list – after all, he'd constructed the list from books he found in the abandoned castle library, and there was no guarantee it was complete. On the other hand, he felt sure that Rumpelstiltskin had a reason for everything he did, and since he had only given Graham seven beans, that had to mean Emma was in one of the seven realms. Rumpelstiltskin didn't seem like the type to leave anything to chance.

Graham looked down at the list again. The next realm was a place called Arendelle. Graham took another bean from the pouch and whistled to Ghost, who had run off to find another squirrel after devouring the first one. Ever obedient, Ghost came bounding back.

"Ready, girl?" he asked. Ghost wagged her tail. Graham threw the bean on the ground. _Take me to Arendelle; take me to Arendelle._ The portal opened and Graham and Ghost stepped once more into the light.

When he landed, the first thing he noticed was color. The next thing was that he was standing by a frozen pond and was surrounded by white. Ghost sidled up next to him, rubbing against his legs. She might have a fur coat to keep her warm, but he was not prepared at all for this change in temperature. Clearly the worlds weren't all following the same seasons. He silently chastised himself for not coming better prepared. Of course the worlds weren't on the same season; he felt silly for expecting they would be.

With trembling fingers, he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the jewelry box. It still wasn't glowing, and for once, he felt a sense of relief instead of dread. He was freezing now, and eager to leave Arendelle was soon as possible. He reached into his pocket to pull out the list and the beans, but a sudden gust of wintry wind blew everything out of his frozen hands.

"No!" Graham snatched at the paper, but the wind was too strong. Ghost sprang after the list while Graham ran after the beans. The icy wind was painful against his exposed skin. He supposed he must look ridiculous to anyone passing by, since he was running through the snow in nothing but a thin shirt and pants, but he barely registered the stares. He was so focused on following the beans that he didn't even notice the patch of ice until he had already slipped and landed face-first in the snow.

Graham groaned and rolled onto his back. His face stung from the snow and wind, and he screwed up his eyes against the pain. He had never felt such cold.

"Are you all right?" He heard a girl's voice, and then felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Graham said grimly as he opened his eyes. The girl looked to be a few years younger than him, with long red hair in braids, fur-lined boots, and a thick winter cloak, which she was already removing to give to him.

"No – no," he insisted, trying to move away as she draped the cloak around him. "You don't have to-"

"Please," she said, waving his objections aside with a gloved hand. "You're freezing. It's the least I can do. I'm Anna, by the way." She offered him her hand.

 _I'm Emma. Don't be scared. Take my hand; come with me._

"Graham," he said, taking her hand and slowly getting to his feet. "And this is my dog, Ghost," he continued, as Ghost trotted up to him, holding the list in her mouth. "Good girl," he murmured to her as he took the list and pocketed it. He didn't know why he bothered; the list was useless without the beans. He glanced around, but of course they were nowhere to be seen.

"Graham?" Anna began tentatively. "Are you looking for these?" She opened her other hand, revealing two small beans.

"Yes!" Graham exclaimed, relieved. "How did you know?"

She shrugged as she handed the beans back to him. "I guess when you grow up here, you get used to seeing people chase after things in the snow. I could see that's what you were running after, so I grabbed them. I mean, it's really strange to see beans just flying around in the middle of winter, you know? Although, I suppose just as strange as seeing someone dressed like you—oh!" She broke off with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Where are my manners? Why don't you come home with me? I can get you some proper clothes – my father had some things that might fit – and you can have a good meal and warm up."

"I don't want to trouble you," Graham said, embarrassed by Anna's earnest attention. "I really should be going. Thank you so much for your kindness. I don't need any warmer clothes; I won't be staying here."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked. "Where are you going to go? Surely it will be snowing there, too."

"I don't know if it will be snowing," he replied. "It might warm up."

Anna laughed. "Not in Arendelle, not for a few months anyway. Winter comes early and lasts long. Unless…" Her eyes widened. "Are you leaving Arendelle? Do you know how to travel to other worlds?" She gasped. "Were those _magic_ beans?"

Graham hesitated, feeling overwhelmed by Anna's curiosity. She seemed harmless, but he'd learned long ago, the hard way, that people could pretend to be harmless to get him to let his guard down. Still, there was something vaguely familiar about her genuine interest and innocence that drew him to her, the way he'd once been drawn to Emma. "I've been using them to get to other realms, yes," he finally answered. "I'm trying to find someone."

"A quest!" Anna exclaimed, sounding positively delighted. "Oh, please, come home with me and have a meal. I would love to hear more, and I'm sure you could use the rest."

"No – I couldn't – I don't want to trouble you-"

"It's no trouble at all!" Anna insisted. "You would be doing me a favor, honestly. I've always wanted to go on an adventure like yours, discovering other realms. But I can't leave; my sister needs me. So hearing about it would be the next best thing!"

"Well…" Graham glanced uncertainly at Ghost. Ghost looked pointedly in Anna's direction. He supposed she did have a point. As much as he wanted to leave and find Emma, it was possible that it was winter in the next realm, too, and he might not find anyone as hospitable as Anna there to bail him out of trouble.

 _Come on, it's okay. I want to help you. It's freezing out here in the stables._

"All right," he relented.

Anna clapped her hands with delight. "I'm so happy you're going to stay! I'm sure Elsa – my sister – would love to meet you, too. Come on, the castle is just over this way."

Graham's eyes widened. "Castle?" he repeated. "Are you-"

"No, no," Anna said, waving her hand. "Elsa's the queen, thank goodness. I could never rule a kingdom."

 _You don't have to call me princess. Just call me by my name._

"Graham?"

"Huh?" Graham felt a blush creeping up his neck. He hadn't realized that Anna had been talking to him. "I was just – sorry. What did you say?"

"It's nothing," Anna said. "It's not important. I don't want to intrude on your thoughts."

"Please," Graham replied. "You rescued my beans and invited me into your home. I think you're entitled to some intrusion."

Anna bit her lip. "Well – okay. You don't have to answer. But I was just asking – you said before that you were looking for someone," she said tentatively. "And I was asking who that was."

 _Emma. My name is Emma._

He hesitated, not sure what to say. He hardly knew Anna, and ten years with Regina had taught him to be wary of everything. But Regina was far away now, and there was just something about Anna that made him want to trust her.

"Her name is Emma," he answered quietly. It had been so long since he'd talked about her to anyone. Most times, he tried not to think about it; the memories were too painful. But now that Anna had gotten him started, he couldn't stop. "She was a princess, like you, but in another realm. When she was eight, her parents were murdered by the Evil Queen. Well – her mother was, anyway. The rumor is that her father is still alive, but no one has seen him in ten years."

Anna nodded. "Go on."

Graham swallowed back the lump rising in his throat. "Before her parents were – before the Evil Queen attacked, I was approached by a strange man with powerful magic who gave me a magic bean. He told me that I could use it to send Emma somewhere safe. I tried to take Emma and her parents out of the castle, but the Evil Queen found us before I could. I opened the portal, and Emma went in, but I have no idea where she is."

Anna frowned. "I've read about magic beans…When you open a portal, you have to say where you're going. Shouldn't you know – I mean, where did you send her?"

Graham sighed. It was the question that had tortured him for days, fueling his long nights in the library, trying to find names of other realms. "When I opened the portal, I made it send her somewhere safe without the Evil Queen," he answered. "I didn't know how specific I had to be. But since the Evil Queen is only in my realm, Emma could be anywhere except there."

"Ah," Anna said. "So which realms have you tried?"

"At this point, nearly all of them," Graham replied. "The only one left on the list is Oz."

To his surprise, Anna's frown deepened. "Didn't you say she had to be somewhere safe? Somewhere without an evil queen?"

"Not an evil queen, _the_ Evil Queen," Graham explained. "I meant someone specific; her name is Regina." But even as he said it, he felt his stomach drop. He hadn't even considered the possibility that other realms could have evil queens, too. What if the bean hadn't known that? What if he'd wasted one of the precious beans traveling to a realm that Emma couldn't possibly have been sent to?

"Do you know of evil queens in other realms?" he asked.

"Well – I don't know if this counts," Anna began. "But I've heard that Oz has a Wicked Witch of the West. And she does rule, sort of like a queen. I think she even has a castle."

Graham could have kicked himself. He'd spent so much time poring over books, trying to find mentions of other realms, that he hadn't had time to read up on them. It was hard enough figuring out if a name even counted as a realm, let alone trying to find a book that could tell him something about it. Maybe if he hadn't rushed off to find Emma, hadn't been so desperate to get away from Regina, he would have found her already.

"Like I said, I don't know if that counts," Anna added quickly, sensing Graham's despair. "Maybe Elsa will have more ideas – she knows magic. Or I can look up more properties of magic beans in some of my books. We'll figure it out, don't worry."

 _Don't worry. You'll be safe here. You can stay as long as you want._

"Thanks," he said weakly.

 _You're welcome._

* * *

Before that night, he had never truly felt despair.

It was a deep, gnawing despair that refused to go away. After ten years, he had almost become used to the feeling of emptiness inside of him, the fact that he felt like a hollow shell of the man, the husband, the father, he used to be. But then, the anniversary would come again, and the emptiness would increase tenfold, sucking him further into the darkness. Every year, it felt like he was losing more of himself, and it became harder to tether himself to not just the present, but also to the memories of the past. As painful as it was to remember, the only thing that would be worse would be to forget.

Charming sighed and rolled over on his cot. Through the slit of his tent door, he could see it was growing light outside. He liked early mornings the best. It was before the dwarves got up, before the rest of the camp was awake, so it was one of the only times he could be alone during the day.

One of the only times he could talk to her.

He got up and dressed quickly before stepping out into the light. He no longer stopped to stare at the scars across his chest and back, and most days, he didn't even think about the fact that he was doing everything with his left hand. He'd long since become an expert at shoving his useless right arm into its sleeve. Some days, he could even do it without a twinge of anger, frustration, or renewed despair.

He was grateful to Doc for saving his life; if it hadn't been for Doc's quick thinking and the tourniquet, he wouldn't have made it. It was hard to be upset when he knew he should be thankful that he was alive at all, but, the measures Doc had taken were costly. The tourniquet had saved his life, but it had irreparably damaged the nerves in his arm. He couldn't raise his right arm, let alone use it to wield a sword. His greatest strength was gone.

He smiled wryly as he entered the woods. Of course that wasn't true. His skill as a swordsman had never been his greatest strength: _she_ had been. And Emma, too. But now, they were gone. Emma was in god-knows-what realm, and he had no way to get to her. And Snow was…

 _Dead_ , he reminded himself. _Regina crushed her heart._ Even after all this time, the words still sounded unnatural. He wondered if he'd ever get used to the idea.

 _Snow._

He stopped suddenly. He'd walked this path into the woods so many times that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings, hadn't been expecting the white flowers to appear so soon before him.

 _I'm here._

It had been Grumpy's idea to plant the snowdrops. They had no materials to construct a proper headstone, but the flowers were somehow more appropriate as grave markers anyway. She'd always loved flowers.

He knelt down before the blossoms. The ground was damp, but he didn't mind; he welcomed the rain, since it kept the flowers alive. He reached out and touched one of the white petals, brushing his finger over the soft buds. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I miss you."

The funeral had been small, just him and the dwarves. He supposed it was lucky they'd managed to retrieve her body at all; Regina had moved into the castle the next day. But the dwarves had taken Snow, too, not wanting to leave her to Regina's mercy. It brought him some comfort to know that no one in his family was under Regina's control. They might not have each other, but at least he knew none of them were with her.

"I haven't given up," he whispered. "I know what I promised."

 _We can't leave her alone. One of us has to be with her._

He had to believe that Emma was still alive. There was no reason why she wouldn't be, he'd assured himself; entering another realm wasn't fatal. But maybe he only wanted to believe that because he couldn't be responsible for her death. He'd pushed her through the portal, after all.

"I wish you were here," he continued softly. "I can't do this alone. I don't know how I'm supposed to go on. It's been ten years, but it could have been yesterday-" His voice caught in his throat.

Snow was dead; Emma was gone. He'd long since deduced that it must have been the Dark One that had given Graham that magic bean, but he had no idea to what end. He'd thought about seeking him out, but the Dark One never answered his calls. Worse, Grumpy had pointed out that the Dark One probably spent his days in the cozy company of Regina, which meant that any help he might give would be tainted by the Evil Queen. Chances were, the Dark One wouldn't be able to help them at all. From what he knew about magic beans, the only person who could really know where the portal led was the one opening it. And that person was dead, too.

"I feel like I'm letting everyone down."

He didn't know that for sure, he supposed. He knew that Graham had been in the room when Regina attacked, but the dwarves said that no one else had been there when they had arrived. The rumor was that Regina destroyed everyone remaining in the castle, including children. On the good days, he could imagine that Graham had miraculously made it out of the castle alive, but most days, he had completely given up hope.

She had always admired his optimism, and now, even that was gone.

"Around the anniversary, I feel like there's this…pressure to do something," he murmured, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "But I can't – you know I can't." He felt tears prickling in his eyes.

"I'm nothing without you."

* * *

When he woke the next morning, the sun was streaming in through a high window, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. _Arendelle._ He was lying on top of a very comfortable bed, with Ghost near his feet. Graham carefully sat up, not wanting to disturb the sleeping wolf.

Despite the comfortable bed, he felt restless, like he hadn't slept at all. His dreams had been punctured by images of evil queens, wicked witches, and jewelry boxes that refused to glow. Although Anna tried to reassure him that she didn't know if the witch in Oz would count, he couldn't help but feel that she had a point. With only two beans left, he had to find Emma in the last realm he tried. He couldn't get this wrong.

But he hadn't _been_ wrong. The jewelry box hadn't glowed in any of the realms he had tried, and it surely would have, if Emma had been there. Unless he'd missed a realm (which Anna and Elsa both agreed he hadn't), it was either Oz, or one of the worlds he'd already seen. Maybe the fact that the box retained its color in the world without color was more significant than he'd thought?

Graham pressed his face into his hands. He had been so sure that he would find Emma in one of these realms. He'd felt prepared when he'd set off: there had been a system, a plan. He wasn't just choosing worlds at random. But clearly, he had underestimated how hard this would be. And now it was Emma who would pay the price. What if he never found her?

He picked up the box from the nightstand table and examined it closely, wondering what he had missed. He'd never really studied the box carefully before, but now he could see that the box's design was intricate, with raised gold flecks that formed a heart on the cover. He traced over the heart carefully. Rumpelstiltskin had said this box was Emma's, but he had never seen it before. Who had given it to her? Looking at it, he just knew how much Emma would have loved it. It felt strange that she wouldn't have told him about the jewelry box, even if she didn't want to show it to him.

 _Unless she didn't have a chance._

Graham set the box back onto the nightstand, his heart pounding. He knew where Emma had gotten the box. It must have been her eighth birthday present, and he was willing to bet it was from her parents. It was the last gift they had ever given her, and she didn't even have it anymore. It felt wrong to be touching it, let alone using it to find her. It was one of the last connections to her parents that she would ever have.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Ghost's head jerked up at the sound. "Come in," Graham called.

The door opened, and Elsa entered. Unlike Anna, her hair was blond, and she kept it in a single braid that fell over her right shoulder. He had been surprised to see she was so young – when Anna said her sister was queen, he had imagined someone much older, someone Snow's age. But Elsa was barely older than he was, and with a pang, he'd realized what that meant: Anna and Elsa were orphans, too.

"Good morning," Elsa said, smiling. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes, thank you," Graham lied.

If Elsa knew he wasn't being honest, she didn't say anything. Instead, she brought a chair over to the edge of the bed. Graham immediately stood up – it felt wrong to be sitting in bed when speaking to the queen – but Elsa gestured for him to sit back down.

"Anna's in the library," Elsa said, offering her hand to Ghost for her to sniff. "I think she's determined to read every book in there before breakfast."

"Not on my account, I hope," Graham said, shifting uncomfortably. Over dinner, he'd talked more about Emma than he had in the last ten years combined. Anna had kept up an endless stream of questions, and whenever he tried to change the subject, she continued to press. He got the sense that his story, which seemed positively banal to him, was fascinating to Anna.

"Graham," Elsa began, as though she had sensed his discomfort. "I know my sister can be a bit…intense at times. When she wants to find something, she refuses to stop looking." He got the feeling Elsa was speaking from personal experience. "But her heart's in the right place. She truly does want to help you."

"I know," he replied. "It's just – it's been so long since I've accepted help from anyone."

"I understand," Elsa said, nodding. "There was a time, after my parents died, when I didn't want to accept help from anyone either, especially not Anna. But there are some things you just can't do alone."

Graham nodded back, thinking hard. Accepting help for something you couldn't do alone was more or less why he was searching for Emma in the first place. She was the only one who could convince Charming to stand up to Regina.

"May I?" Elsa asked, gesturing toward the jewelry box.

Graham handed it to her. He'd told them about the box's spell last night, although he'd kept the box in his pocket during dinner. He took heart in the fact that both Anna and Elsa had at least heard of putting spells on objects to make them glow when they were near someone they were trying to locate; at least Rumpelstiltskin's method of finding Emma had a chance of working.

Elsa turned the box over in her slender fingers. "What's this for?" she asked, pointing to a slot at the edge of the circular base that Graham hadn't noticed before.

He shook his head. "No idea. This was Emma's jewelry box."

"Hm." Elsa squinted closer at the box. "You're sure it was hers? The spell will only work if it's something she owned."

"I'm sure," Graham replied.

"And in the land without magic?" Elsa asked. "Will the spell still work there?"

"I don't know," Graham answered slowly. "I hadn't thought of that." His stomach turned uncomfortably. Would Rumpelstiltskin have given him a box that could only glow in certain realms? Had he _known_ that the box would never glow in the land without magic, even if Emma was there?

 _Why can't that damn imp ever just say what he means?_

"I was thinking about what you said last night," Elsa began, handing the box back to him. "About not being able to go back without Emma." It had been a response to another of Anna's questions, her wanting to know what the stakes were, what would happen if he went back without finding Emma. Charming wouldn't fight, for one thing; for another, Regina would probably kill him. Going back without Emma was not an option.

"I know you have two beans left," Elsa continued. "One for the last realm you try, and the other to get back home. But I just want you to know…" she paused, hesitant. Graham stayed quiet. "If you don't find her in Oz or wherever you try next, I just want you to know that you will always be welcome here in Arendelle. If you – if you don't want to go back to the Enchanted Forest."

Graham swallowed hard. He wanted to say that he was grateful for Elsa's kindness, and that he truly appreciated the offer. But the thought of not finding Emma, of having to give up on ever finding her again, was almost more than he could bear.

"Don't worry, Graham," Elsa said quietly, as though she had read his thoughts. "You're going to find her."

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask. "How can you be so sure?"

Elsa smiled softly. "When you love someone…you will always find them."

* * *

 **A/N:** And since we all know Graham loves Emma, I can promise that he will be finding her really soon (read: next chapter). In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the form of a review. Have a wonderful month, everyone!


	4. When I Had Lost Hope

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine.

 **A/N:** Guys, I'm sorry. When I started this project, I really thought I'd be able to post a chapter a month, at the beginning of the month. I totally did not anticipate how awful this year was going to be for me (death, major illness, work/school stress). I thought February was bad, and then March came. Anyway, point is, I'm sorry for not posting as often as either of us would like.

I want to thank everyone who has been so supportive during this difficult time in my life. Thank you so, so much to my cheerleaders **Kristy, Sophie,** and **skagengiirl.** You guys have really kept me going. And of course, a big thanks to my twin soul **Melissa** who beta'd this chapter, and my RL work as well. Finally, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Hearing your kind words really does mean the world to me. Your encouragement feeds my muse, and reminds me that I'm not alone.

* * *

"Swan, get up. It's time to go."

Emma's eyes snapped open. She rolled onto her side and sat up, brushing her long blonde hair from her face. Ignoring the stares and whispers of her cellmates, she stood up and walked over to the female guard standing at the door. "Go?"

"State says you're eighteen now, and the judge wants you out," Officer Reynolds explained gruffly. "Bus leaves in half an hour." She handed Emma a bag. "Put these on."

Emma stared. "But – why? What did I do?"

"Nothing," Reynolds said. "And stop that!" she snapped in response to the cellmates' groans and protests. "Swan, you better get ready to leave. The restof you should head down to the mess hall for breakfast. Let's move!" The guard waited until the other girls had all shuffled out of the room before shutting and locking the door, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts.

It felt strange to be leaving. Of course, it was going to happen eventually, but she'd always thought there would be more than thirty minutes' warning. Not that she needed much time – it wasn't like she had anything to pack. Emma opened the plastic bag the Reynolds had given her and dumped out its contents: a long-sleeved shirt, a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a manila envelope. The fabric felt rough and starchy. She hoped the clothes wouldn't itch.

Once she'd finished putting on the ill-fitting clothes, Emma sat down on the bed with the envelope. Her fingers shook slightly as she opened it, revealing her sole possession. Emma picked up the locket by its dainty chain, tracing the shape of the heart charm with her other hand. _I will always find you,_ the locket read. Emma smiled wryly as she did the clasp around her neck and tucked the locket behind her shirt. What a pile of crap.

The locket was the last connection to the life she'd once had, not that she remembered any of it. Her memory was blank until age eight, and had stubbornly remained so, despite the numerous psychiatrists and psychotherapists that her caseworker and foster parents had dragged her to. She'd tried once or twice to make up some memories, since that seemed to be what everyone wanted her to do, but the doctors seemed to know she was lying. No amount of hypnosis or talk therapy had managed to make the real memories reappear, and no one could agree on why. She had either suffered something traumatic or was simply pretending not to have any memories for attention. Either way, everyone lost interest over time.

The locket was her only source of proof that she hadn't always been alone; someone, maybe her parents, had loved her once. Emma sighed as she stuffed her khaki jumpsuit into the plastic bag and threw it on the bed. Whoever had loved her clearly didn't love her now. According to the state, her parents were dead (although, admittedly, they couldn't tell her who her parents actually were). Emma no longer cared if that was true or not. After five different foster homes and three stays in juvenile detention, her parents were as good as dead to her.

When she was younger, she'd dreamed of her parents finding her and taking her away from the group foster homes. It wasn't until her second stay in juvie, at fifteen, when she's finally accepted the truth: no one was coming. She was a skinny little nobody with no past, no family, and no future. She didn't even have a real last name.

At least juvenile detention was predictable; she knew where she was sleeping, where she was eating, and what she would wear. She didn't have to draw attention to herself by lingering in front of grocery stores, hoping someone would take pity on her and buy her some food. Her caseworker tried to help her get a job once she'd turned sixteen, but no one wanted to hire a two-time juvenile offender with no work history to speak of. And she couldn't rely on her caseworker for anything anyway; the man was nice enough, but he was overworked and had much more pressing cases than hers. Children being abused, parents being murdered; compared to everyone else's problems, Emma's case was positively banal.

But now even those small comforts were gone. There was no more caseworker, absent though he was; there was no more predictable juvenile detention. If she was eighteen, she was no longer a ward of the state; she belonged to herself, not the caseworker. She imagined him closing his file on her in his cramped office, stuffing it into the overflowing filing cabinet with all the other children who had aged out of the system. It was not lost on Emma that turning eighteen meant she was no longer a juvenile, and the next time she was caught stealing bread to keep from starving to death, she would be locked up with adults.

She heard keys jingle and then the door swung open. The guard was back. "Time to go, Swan."

 _Go where_?Emma didn't ask. She knew the answer already.

 _Nowhere._

* * *

"Graham?"

She unlocked the door with magic, not even bothering to knock. She would do what the guards would or could not. Three guards had been sent, and all three had returned empty-handed. Needless to say, Regina was now down three more guards.

"Graham, pet?"

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was lying in bed, buried beneath the covers. Regina hesitated, glancing around for the wolf. That damn dog was too protective for its own good. She longed to snap the animal's neck, the way she had done with the others, but she knew she couldn't. Ghost was the only piece of leverage she still had over him.

"Are you sick?" Regina cooed as she reached the bed. She touched his shoulder. "Graham?"

"Now, now, dearie, don't tell me you're going soft."

Regina withdrew her hand as quickly as if she'd been burned. "You!" she hissed as Rumpelstiltskin threw back the covers. "What are _you_ doing here? Where's Graham?"

"How should I know?" he cackled.

Regina growled in frustration as she grabbed the imp and pushed him up against the wall. "You know," she seethed. "You always know. Where is he?"

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, his grin widening. "But I don't know, dearie. No one could know where in the worlds he could be."

Where in the _worlds?_

Regina tightened her grip around his throat. Anger coursed through her as she spat through gritted teeth, "What did you do?"

* * *

Emma woke up as the bus turned off the highway. She blinked, disoriented, then sat up straighter. Looking out the window, she could see they were pulling into a rest stop. She glanced at the clock at the front of the bus. Judging from the time, they had been on the road for just over three hours.

"Ten minutes," the driver barked. "Bathrooms around back."

Emma wrapped her arms around herself against the chilly October wind as she stepped off the bus. It had been several months since she'd been outside in the open, her view uninhibited by walls. She didn't really need to go to the bathroom, but she headed in that direction anyway, since there seemed to be nothing else around.

The bus would eventually make it into town. Then, she suspected, they would be unceremoniously dumped outside some homeless shelter, maybe with a couple hundred dollars in cash to get them started in their new lives as productive adults. Or maybe the state had already arranged jobs for them. Emma wasn't holding her breath. Even if the state had a job for her, it probably wasn't one she would want.

Ten years in the system had disabused her of all notions that it worked. She was no longer detained, but she would never be free. Her choices weren't her own to make. She would do what the government had arranged for her, since there was hardly any alternative. She couldn't get a job on her own, so she would have to take theirs. She didn't have anywhere to live, so she would have to take their shelter. And even then, it would be temporary, subject to the whims of state legislators who seemed to like nothing more than defunding all the programs that were supposed to help people like her.

"Five minutes!"

Emma crept around the bathrooms, enjoying her last remaining moments alone. What if she could be alone forever? Her eyes widened at the thought. What would happen if she _didn't_ get back on the bus? The guards were all back at the detention center. No one expected any of the former juvenile delinquents to do anything at this rest stop except get back on the bus; what other choice was there? She doubted the bus driver even knew how many of the inmates had gotten off the bus, let alone their names, or how many of them there had been to begin with.

Could she do it? She could survive on her own; Emma knew that better than anyone. But she would have to be smarter about it this time. There was more risk involved now that she was an adult. She closed her eyes and clutched her locket.

 _I will always find you._

"Two minutes!"

But what if she never wanted to be found?

"Send me a sign," she whispered. "A hint. Anything!"

Suddenly, a bark. Emma's eyes flew open in time to see the fluffy tail disappear into the woods behind the building. The flash of gray was so fast that she wasn't even sure it had been there. Surely the universe hadn't actually sent her a _dog_. Had she only imagined the bark?

On the other hand, she wondered why she'd expected anything more. Emma glanced over her shoulder and saw the driver making his way back to the bus. The others were following him onto the bus now, retaking their seats. How long would it take for someone to figure out she was missing? Would someone even bother to look? Emma heard the roar as the driver started the engine, completely unaware that his bus would be carrying one less charge.

It was now or never.

The dog trotted up to her, as though it knew she would be staying. Her mind wasn't made up, but clearly the dog's was. As the dog came closer, Emma could see it was small, and quite young, with oversized paws too big for its body. She closed her eyes as she heard the crunch of gravel as the bus reversed, and then the sound faded as the bus left the rest stop. A small smile crossed her lips as the dog began to lick her hand.

She had done it.

She was free.

* * *

The sun was setting, sending warm orange light through the tall windows of the library. The pile of books on the table was slowly shrinking as Graham and Elsa replaced more of them on the shelves. Anna had scampered off half an hour ago, Ghost at her heels, despite Graham's protests that he didn't need her to pack any food or clothes for him, or leashes for Ghost. Elsa had shrugged and smiled helplessly. It was clear that her sister couldn't be stopped.

He had finally decided on the land without magic. He wasn't certain that the Wicked Witch in Oz counted as an evil queen, but he knew for sure there were no evil queens in the land without magic. It annoyed him that Rumpelstiltskin would have given him a magical object to find Emma that wouldn't glow in the realm she was actually in. Despite Rumpelstiltskin's insistence that he didn't know where Graham had sent Emma, Graham had a sneaking suspicion that the imp knew more about where Emma was than he was letting on.

Desperate as he was to find Emma, Graham hated himself for taking the beans from Rumpelstiltskin. He'd temporarily escaped from Regina only to become Rumpelstiltskin's pawn, forced to play his part in doing whatever it was that Rumpelstiltskin was doing. What did he want with him? He was disturbed that Elsa and Anna had heard of Rumpelstiltskin, or the "Dark One," as was more common in Arendelle. What kind of power did he have that made him known in realms outside the Enchanted Forest? How many other lives was he manipulating, right at this very moment?

"What if I can't find her?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He blushed when he realized Elsa had heard him.

"I've already told you, Graham," she said gently, replacing the book she was holding on the shelf and walking over to him. "You're going to find her."

He nodded, pressing his lips together as he picked up another book. He didn't understand Anna's optimism or Elsa's faith, but he didn't want to contradict the queen. From the books, he could tell the land without magic was an extremely large realm, much larger than the Enchanted Forest or Arendelle. And without the jewelry box, he would have no way of knowing when he was getting close to Emma, or if he was going in the wrong direction entirely.

"What is it?" Elsa asked, sensing his unease.

Graham sighed. "I don't know. I just – I put so much faith in that jewelry box. And if it won't glow no matter how close I am…"

But Elsa smiled. "I think you'll be close. You just need to ask the bean to take you somewhere specific in the land without magic."

"Do you think that will work?"

Elsa shrugged. "It can't hurt, right?"

"What can't hurt?" asked Anna as she bounded back into the room. She was wearing a small knapsack, which she took off and offered to Graham. Ghost trotted over and sat down next to him. He noticed she was wearing a thick leather collar.

Graham shook his head. "You didn't have to—" he began awkwardly, but Anna waved his comments aside.

"Of course I did!" she insisted. "It's the least we can do." When he still hadn't taken it, she thrust the backpack into Graham's hands. "What can't hurt?" she asked again.

"Telling the bean to take you somewhere specific in a particular land," Elsa explained. "We were trying to figure out how Graham could find Emma in the land without magic if he doesn't have the jewelry box to guide him."

Anna's eyes lit up. "Do you think that would work? Can you really just say 'Take me to Emma in the land without magic?'"

Graham shook his head. "It's too common a name."

"But it's not just the name," Anna insisted. "It's who she is, as a person. It's your childhood friend Emma. It's the Emma who you love!"

Graham felt himself turning red. How was it that both sisters knew something he had never shared with anyone, let alone admitted to himself? It wasn't that it wasn't true – of course it was true. But it felt wrong, indecent, for a servant boy to love a princess. He wasn't good enough for her. He couldn't love her; if he found her and brought her back to the Enchanted Forest, she would reunite with her father and defeat Regina. She would one day become queen.

"Graham?" Anna began tentatively. "I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – I just thought-"

"You're right," he said quietly. After all Anna and Elsa had done for him, the least he could give them was the truth. "It's just – she doesn't love me. She can't." Ghost pressed her head into his leg. "Princesses don't marry kitchen boys."

The sisters exchanged significant looks. "You never know," Elsa said finally. "I think you'll find that we princesses don't always fall in love with royalty." Anna nodded vigorously.

"Thanks," he muttered, embarrassed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch containing the last two beans. He saw Anna's eyes widen, saw her open her mouth to protest, but Elsa stopped her, for which he was grateful. It was hard enough to leave without Anna begging him to stay one more night. Instead, Anna stepped closer to him. Graham extended his hand automatically, but Anna opened her arms instead.

"Will we see you again, Graham?" she asked as she hugged him. "Please say yes."

"I hope so," Graham replied as he turned to hug Elsa.

"Just not _too_ soon," Elsa corrected him. "Make sure to bring Emma back with you, too."

He nodded. He wanted to promise them he'd be back with Emma in tow, but he didn't want to jinx anything. Blind faith had never been his strong suit. He wanted so badly to believe them when they said he would find Emma, but it was almost easier to believe it wouldn't be true. It felt like he'd be less disappointed, somehow, when he didn't find her, if he never expected to in the first place.

"You can do it, Graham," Anna said quietly. "You just have to believe it."

He nodded again as he picked up the knapsack and swung it over his shoulder. He opened his hand and dropped the bean on the ground. He saw the sisters smile at him encouragingly as he closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could.

 _Take me to Emma in the land without magic. Take me to Emma, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Take me to my childhood friend Emma in the land without magic._

The portal opened, flooding them in blinding white light. He heard Anna gasp as he and Ghost stepped into the portal. He had one last glimpse of Elsa's smile, Anna's wave, as he was carried off in a whirl of light and rush of sound.

* * *

By the next morning, they had made it to a town. Emma was glad that the dog seemed to have some idea of where it was going, because nothing looked familiar to her. They had spent the night huddled together under a bridge. Emma had thought she'd wanted to be alone, but she had to admit that having a dog as a companion was nice. The dog was silent, allowing Emma to make her own decisions, but still good enough company to keep her from being lonely.

"Frosty!" Emma called as the dog bounded down the street. "Frosty, wait!"

Emma caught up with the dog outside of a bakery. Her stomach ached at the smell of freshly baked bread. Frosty was sitting outside the bakery, staring up at Emma, his blue eyes wide and expectant.

"I'm sorry, boy," Emma murmured, patting him on the head. "I don't have any money. You can hunt some squirrels later."

The bakery was at the edge of a fairly crowded street with several shops. Emma wandered through the town slowly, making mental notes as she went along. The trick, she had learned, was to never stay in one place for too long, especially if that place wasn't large. This town didn't seem to have more than a few places to buy groceries, which meant she would have to be extra careful about taking any food. The people seemed nice enough; a few of the adults smiled at her, and some of the children called out to Frosty. Emma smiled back, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing she needed was everyone in town knowing who she was.

She had just reached the edge of the block when it happened. She was trying to figure out which direction to go next, when she felt someone's eyes on her. Emma turned around slowly, and her heart leapt into her throat.

There was a wolf standing on the opposite side of the street.

At first, the wolf didn't move, continuing to stare at Emma as she stared at it. But then several screams pierced the silence. The townspeople began to scatter, and Emma ran, too, Frosty keeping pace at her heels. She heard yells and panicked cries as the wolf ran after the fleeing crowd, although she didn't dare turn around to see which direction it had gone. It was bad enough having a rogue wolf in town without knowing if it was targeting her.

"This way!" Emma yelled as she turned the corner into an alley. Frosty followed her behind a dumpster. She knew the dumpster was of little protection if the wolf came down the alley, but she didn't see why it would. Surely there were more exciting things to chase.

But it seemed that Emma was wrong. She clutched Frosty to her chest as she heard the wolf coming toward them. Emma closed her eyes. She didn't know how close the wolf was, but she was too scared to look. It hardly mattered anyway; of course the wolf could smell them, but maybe if she didn't move, if she didn't breathe, it would just go away…

She felt warm breath on her cheek, heard panting in her ear. Unwillingly, Emma looked up, staring up at the big green eyes just two inches from her own.

She was sure they would be the last thing she would ever see.

* * *

"Ghost!"

Graham tore down the street after her. The portal had opened in the middle of a town, and judging by the screams of all the townspeople, it was highly unusual for them to see a wolf suddenly appear in the middle of the street. He could hardly reassure them that Ghost was harmless before she'd taken off, chasing someone through the town. He couldn't understand it; Ghost had never chased after a person before.

He found her in an alley. She was sniffing around a dumpster, pawing at the ground. Graham ran up to her and seized her by the collar. " _There_ you are, girl," he panted. "What are you – oh!"

As he pulled Ghost back, he saw what she had been chasing. As the figure on the ground sat back, her long blonde hair fell out of her face, and he saw why Ghost had been so relentless in her chase. Graham's fingers slackened against Ghost's collar as he gasped.

It was Emma.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know, a cliffhanger (or as Melissa would say, ~dramatic pause). Chapter 5 won't be posted on May 1, but I will try to post it by mid-month, so I can get back on track for posting chapter 6 at the beginning of June. Of course, I've probably jinxed myself now. Anyway, please be my muse's best friend and leave me your thoughts!

P.S. Yes, all chapter titles are Anastasia song lyrics. Congrats to skagengiirl for being the first to point that out in a review.

P.P.S. Frosty is a miniature Siberian husky. Google the pictures. I WANT ONE.


	5. Things My Heart Used To Know

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize from the show belongs to me.

 **A/N:** Guys, I'm sorry. The end of the school year was really rough, and I didn't have time/energy/mental space to write. The good news is that classes are over and I only have one paper left to write, so I should have more time to devote to this story. Thank you all for your patience and for hanging in there with me.

On a happier note, thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited this story. It means so much to me that there are loyal readers out there who enjoy this story. Special shoutout to skagengiirl and Kristy for indulging my word games. And of course, a big thank you to my beta Melissa for just - just - just being the best. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Emma?"

He stared at her, memorizing her face, trying to match it to the eight-year-old one he remembered. She was thin— _too thin_ , he couldn't help thinking—and her eyes were wide with fear. Gone was the warmth and trust that had radiated from her when she'd found him in the stables one winter; the Emma staring at him now had hardened, and her eyes narrowed at the hand he'd extended to her, which she had still refused to take.

"How do you know my name?"

"I – what?"

"You said my name." Emma's frown deepened. She drew back, clutching her dog i even closer to her chest, as though protecting her heart. "Who told you where to find me?"

"No one." Graham was more confused than ever. "No one told me where to find you. I didn't even know you would be here, in the land without magic."

Emma laughed, a cold, derisive laugh that was so unlike the one he remembered. "The land without _what_?"

"Magic," Graham repeated, doubt flooding his stomach. Was this not Emma after all? This girl clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm – I'm sorry. You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Should I?"

Graham glanced at Ghost. _She_ at least had been certain. She wouldn't have chased after Emma for nothing. As if to reassure him, Ghost wagged her tail and walked toward Emma.

"Get that wolf away from me!"

"Ghost," Graham muttered. She retreated and lay down at his feet. "She's harmless," he reassured Emma. "It's just – she remembers you. She knows what you smell like-"

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Emma's eyes bulged. "What do you mean, she knows what I smell like?" she demanded, jumping to her feet. "They _did_ send you after me, didn't they? You've been hired to track me down and bring me back to juvie. You're a bounty hunter!"

"No, no!" Graham protested. "I'm not a bounty hunter; I don't even know what juvie is-"

Emma scoffed. "Right."

"Please," Graham began, moving closer to her. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to help."

Emma's expression softened, and he exhaled slowly. For a moment, he thought he could see the young princess he'd grown up with. He reached out his hand again, and this time Emma took it. She released the dog she was holding as she allowed him to help her to her feet. He smiled at her, and she gave him a small smile back.

"Now, where-"

"Frosty, run!"

Graham screwed his eyes shut and doubled over in pain as Emma's knee hit his groin. He felt her grab Anna's pack, but he couldn't do anything to stop her. Ghost moved toward him, and he put his hand on her back, steadying himself, groaning in frustration. By the time he looked up, Emma was gone.

Graham swore under his breath. How could that have gone so wrong? He'd thought so long about how to find Emma, he hadn't even considered what he would say if he did manage to find her. This Emma ( _and this had to be Emma, Ghost knew it was Emma_ , he assured himself) didn't seem to know him at all. Could she really have forgotten him that easily? Did she remember anything about her life in the Enchanted Forest, before Regina had ripped everything away?

"That was her, right, girl?" he muttered to Ghost. Ghost cocked her head, her expression half-reprimanding, half-amused. He patted her on the head. "Just had to be sure."

Ghost sat, and he sank down next to her. On top of everything else, he'd lost the magic beans. He supposed it didn't matter; there was no point in going back until he could convince Emma to come back with him. As long as she kept the pack, it wouldn't be a problem. He bit his lip. Would she keep the pack? She'd clearly stolen it because she thought it was either valuable or dangerous to her. Once she found out it was neither, she might discard it. He couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to face her again so soon, but he had to at least get the knapsack back.

"You know where she went?" Ghost wagged her tail. Graham got to his feet. "Lead the way."

But they didn't have to go far. No sooner had Graham rounded the corner of the alleyway than he found himself face-to-face with Emma. He was relieved to see she was still clutching Anna's pack.

"Hi!" he said breathlessly.

She smiled sheepishly. "Hi." She hesitated, and then offered the knapsack to him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken this from you."

"It's okay," Graham said slowly. "Thank you for bringing it back."

Emma nodded, not meeting his eyes. "I don't steal from the poor. I only take what I need to survive. But not if it means someone else will starve."

"That's very honorable of you."

Emma looked up. "I didn't realize – I mean – I didn't think that you were homeless, too. I thought you were going to bring me back to juvie."

"No," Graham assured her. He decided to leave out the part where he didn't even know what or where that was. He extended his hand. "My name is Graham."

"Graham," Emma repeated, shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Graham."

Graham smiled. "And you are?"

"You already know." She offered him a small smile back. "My name is Emma."

* * *

"Where is he?"

It was the same question she asked the imp every morning, every day. She had locked him in the dungeon and enchanted the bars so that he couldn't use magic to escape. She knew that if he tried hard enough, he could probably find a way around her enchantments, but he seemed content to remain where he was. It was almost as if he _enjoyed_ watching her squirm.

Actually, she knew that he did.

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. "Oh, it's you."

Internally, she seethed, but she arranged a smile on her face, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how irksome he was becoming. "Yes, it's me," she said sweetly. "Did you miss me?"

"No."

She resisted rolling her eyes. "Are you feeling cooperative today?"

"Are you?"

Regina curled her fingers into a fist, trying to channel all of her anger down her right arm. "If you won't tell me _where_ Graham is, how about telling me how?"

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow. "How? How should I know how he is?"

"Not how he _is,_ you pathetic swine, how he's _doing_ it!"

"But surely you don't need my help for that, dearie?" Rumpelstiltskin pressed the tips of his long fingers together, considering her. "You know there are only so many ways to travel between the worlds."

"And none of them should be available to him," Regina growled. "That hat is gone. The ship is destroyed, as are the beans…"

He smirked at her. "You're sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure," Regina snapped impatiently. "I destroyed them myself, ten years ago. I didn't want anyone getting any ideas."

Rumpelstiltskin looked down at his fingers. "You know, dearie, the thing is, if you want to destroy something, you really have to _mean_ it. Your mother had to learn that lesson, too. And I thought you had as well. I saw what you did to her heart." He bowed his head, acknowledging her. "But beans and hearts, they're all the same. You really have to put your heart into it, if you want them to stay destroyed."

Regina froze. "You're not saying-"

Rumpelstiltskin laughed. "No, no, Snow White is dead. Didn't I just say I admired your work on that one? It's the beans you have to worry about."

"Beans can't put themselves back together."

"No, they can't," he conceded calmly. Then he grinned. "But Dark Ones can."

Regina lunged at him through the bars, but he caught her by the wrist. " _You!_ "

"Yes, dearie, me. Haven't you learned by now that I never put all of my eggs in one basket?"

"So you decided to put them with _him_?"

"Of course not," Rumpelstiltskin said, blinking innocently at her. "I put them with her."

* * *

Emma awoke suddenly. She wasn't sure if it was the chilly night air or some forest animal that had woken her. She sat up slowly. The fire that Graham had been tending to when she'd fallen asleep had long since gone out. Graham was lying a few feet away from her; she couldn't tell if he was awake or not, since his back was turned to her. The wolf – Ghost, he'd said her name was – was next to him. A small smile crossed her face when she saw that Frosty had curled up next to the big wolf.

Emma drew her knees to her chest. The sweatshirt from juvie was too thin to provide much warmth in the cold October night. At least the bridge had partially blocked the wind. Graham's knapsack had contained what looked like a winter coat, but she'd refused to take it when he'd offered it to her earlier. She couldn't take from anyone whose need was equal to or greater than hers. But when she looked over again at Graham, she saw that he wasn't using it either. She rolled her eyes at his chivalry. What was the point of them both suffering?

Something warm pressed up against her side. Emma turned to see that Ghost was sitting next to her. The wolf looked fearsome, but she really did seem just like an oversized dog. Besides, Emma couldn't fault Graham for picking up a stray. After all, it was exactly what she'd done with Frosty. Frosty, she noticed, had snuggled up next to Graham now that Ghost had moved. Emma hesitated, and then reached into Graham's knapsack and pulled out the winter coat, which she threw over him and her dog.

"We shouldn't both be cold," she muttered to Ghost. In response, the wolf leaned into her; Emma could feel the heat radiating from her coat. "Thanks," she said. Then she felt stupid. Why was she thanking the wolf? It wasn't not like the dog could understand her.

Could she?

What had Graham meant, that Ghost remembered what she'd _smelled_ like? How could Ghost have ever known that? Emma was sure she would have remembered seeing a giant wolf, and at any rate, she'd barely seen anyone, human or animal, since running away from the juvie bus. She supposed it could have been from before she'd been locked up, but how could any dog have a sense of smell that strong? None of it made sense. Unless…

"Magic isn't real," she whispered sternly to herself. "There is no land without magic."

She couldn't bring herself to ask Graham what the hell he had meant by that. She had been replaying his words on a loop all day. He knew her name. _How?_ Was it possible – she didn't even want to think it, couldn't hope that it was true – that he had he known her once? Was he someone from her mysterious eight years of non-existent memories? Emma shook her head. Surely, if that were the case, he could have just said that. There was no point in trying to make things more complicated. He was just like her, a runaway. A nobody.

Still…even nobodies were somebodies once. She was curious, but didn't want to ask questions, since she didn't want to answer his questions in return. For now, she was content to be a fellow bandit, dependent on the generosity of others to survive. Generosity – or the adorableness of her dog. She smiled wryly at the memory that suddenly popped into her head. Somehow, Frosty had managed to collect nearly twenty dollars in change by sitting on a street corner looking despondent by an empty cup for an hour. That was more money than she'd ever made doing that.

It was a dark world where people were more willing to help a dog than they were a human.

Ghost nudged her, and Emma sighed, wrapping her hand around the locket. The memory faded, returning her to the long, lonely night. How many more of those would she spend? She wasn't alone, now, but how long would that last? Sooner or later, Graham would grow tired of her and decide to leave. Surely he had better things to do than wander around the forests of Maine with a girl missing memories from the first half of her life.

 _No one told me where to find you._

She'd given up on the locket's promise long ago. But if it was true, if someone really had loved her, and meant those words once…could _that_ be why Graham was here? He'd said that no one told him _where_ she was; he'd never contested that he was trying _to_ find her. Emma shook her head. Playing with semantics. That was truly a sign of desperation. The fact Graham had run into her was just a coincidence. And him knowing her name was a lucky guess. And she probably had seen Ghost before, or Ghost had seen her, or caught her scent, and she just didn't know it.

She had to know.

Would he tell her the truth? She'd met many men like him before – dark, mysterious ( _handsome_ , she had to admit) – and it never ended well. They always wanted something from her. Sometimes they just wanted her. Emma sighed. She promised herself after the last time that she wouldn't let anyone take advantage of her. And yet, there was something about him, maybe the awkward hesitancy, or the genuine care that he showed toward the dogs, that made her want to trust him.

Or at least stick around long enough to find out more.

* * *

"Maybe he won't come back."

He rolled his eyes. This routine was getting quite dull. First, it was where the boy had gone (how was he supposed to know?), and then it was whether he'd find her (did she really know so little about true love?). Now she was on whether or not he'd come back.

"Sure," he drawled. "Let's go with that."

She stopped pacing, stomping her foot impatiently. "You think he will?"

"In a word?" He smirked. "Yes."

Regina howled with rage. "What is he going to do with that brat here? No one will believe him anyway. Everyone knows that she died along with her good-for-nothing parents."

"To be fair, everyone only knows for sure that Snow is dead." He knew it would provoke her, but he just couldn't help himself. "Rumor is that Charming is alive. Why wouldn't they believe that Emma survived, too?"

"Because she can't be alive!" Regina resumed her pacing. "She has a claim to the throne."

"Oh, I see. They'll never settle for you once they learn they can have her."

"You know they won't!" Regina snapped. "I murdered her parents."

He raised his eyebrows. "You admit it was murder? I thought we were calling it justifiable homicide."

He lived for these moments. There was so little entertainment while locked in this cell. Watching Regina work herself into a blind rage would have to hold him over until tomorrow, when he could do it all over again.

"Come now, dearie," he tried to soothe her. "It's easy enough to prevent them from coming back."

" _Them?_ "

"Oops, did I let that slip?"

"So he has found her," Regina fumed. "I'd bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you? You think she will treat you better than I do? Her parents stole your magic and locked you in a cage."

"You're halfway there." He laughed sardonically. "Look, dearie, there's no need to make this so hard. You know how to get to them."

"I can't conjure a portal out of thin air!"

"No," he agreed, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "You can't. But I never said what happened to the rest of the beans."

* * *

He was sitting by Ghost at the edge of the woods, waiting for her to come back. Emma had insisted they sleep in the forest where no one could find them, as people in this world weren't accustomed to seeing a wolf as a pet. He remembered nodding like this was perfectly reasonable and wondering why he hadn't thought of that himself. Still, while Frosty and Ghost were perfectly content chasing squirrels for breakfast (and truth be told, he'd have been fine with that, too), he could tell that Emma wasn't, and she wanted to go back into town to find something else to eat. He didn't want to say no, but he also didn't want to let on how worried he was that she wouldn't come back. Not when she was just beginning to trust him.

Ghost stared at him with her large green eyes. Graham patted her on the head. "I know, girl. I'm trying not to worry." Ghost thumped her tail. Graham was glad that she, at least, had faith. He'd woken that morning to find Ghost curled up against Emma and Anna's coat covering his chest. Somehow he knew that Ghost hadn't been the one to put it there.

"Graham?"

He looked up, and his face broke into a smile when he saw it was Emma. "You're back!"

She laughed. "You're surprised."

"No – no!" he insisted as she handed him a muffin. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

She raised her eyebrows. It was all so familiar that his heart ached. "I suppose I deserve that," she said. "It's hard to trust people. Sometimes, I don't even trust myself."

Her words cut through him like a knife. Gone was the self-assured princess who'd offered her hand to strangers. This Emma was wary, hesitant, like she'd been hurt one too many times. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he had to apologize for. It was _his_ fault that she was in this world; it was because of him that she'd grown up scared and alone. There was nothing he could do to give her back ten years of her life, a decade of a life that no longer existed, but he would do everything in his power to give her back the future she deserved.

"Graham?"

He started, realizing that she'd been speaking to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "What did you say?"

Emma bit her lip. "I wanted to ask you something."

His heart jumped into his throat. "Okay."

He saw Emma glance at Ghost. "You said yesterday that your dog knew me – knew my scent."

"I shouldn't have-"

"I know it's stupid," Emma pushed on. "I know. But just hear me out. I'm not going to run, but I have to know." Graham nodded, his mouth going dry. "There's this – period – of my life that I don't remember. And I was just wondering if you…" She cleared her throat. "Did you know me?"

Graham hesitated. Emma's eyes were wide and expectant, and he wanted so badly to tell her everything, confess all that he knew. But he could also see that even though she was asking, she absolutely was not expecting anything related to curses, magic, or crushed hearts. It was too much, and she'd never believe him anyway. He'd have to work up to that.

"No," he answered quietly, looking down at the half-eaten muffin in his hands. "I don't know you."

"Okay," Emma said slowly. "Then how did you know my name?"

He sighed. "I didn't. But I wanted it to be true."

"Why?" she pressed.

He looked up. "Because I – I just…" He glanced down, unable to hold her gaze, and then it came to him. "Because I saw your locket. Where did you get it?"

"This?" she asked, pointing to the heart-shaped locket at her neck. "I don't know. I've always had this, as long as I can remember. Why?"

"I think it's hers."

"Whose?"

"Princess Emma's."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "There aren't any princesses in this country."

Graham swallowed. "Right. I'm – she's not from this country."

"Okay," Emma said skeptically. "And you think I'm this princess?"

"Well, may-"

Emma laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Graham insisted. "You just said you don't know everything that happened to you. No one knows what happened to her."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Right."

Graham shifted uncomfortably. This was harder than he thought; he felt silly for even trying. He didn't know Emma well enough to know what she would believe. Even his watered down truth was too fanciful for her. She was skeptical, cautious, but beneath that hard exterior, he thought he could also see a twinge of fear. She was afraid of what he might know about her that she herself couldn't remember. He wished he'd never brought up the locket in the first place, but now that he had, he couldn't back down. He wouldn't be able to convince her in a day; the best he could do was give her a reason to stay with him long enough for him to tell her the truth.

"Look," he began. "This locket's been missing for a long time. There's a reward for anyone who turns it in. It's – a lot of money. And I guess, I thought, you know, if I could find the locket, and return it to the king, I wouldn't – I'd no longer-"

"You'd no longer be poor," Emma finished. "I see."

"And you – you don't know how you got this locket, right?"

"No," Emma admitted. "I don't. I just thought I'd always had it."

Graham's insides squirmed; he hated lying like this. "What if – what if you come with me? I'm not even sure this is the locket – I mean, it matches the description, but only the king can be sure. And if it's not Emma's – not Princess Emma's – then the king will know right away, and it's all an honest mistake. And if it is hers, and you return it to the king…I'll split the money with you."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't want to take the locket from you, in case I'm wrong," Graham explained. "But if I'm right…"

"Then it was never mine in the first place." Emma crossed her arms, clearly thinking hard.

Graham waited in silence. He had no idea if this was going to work, and he was already half-hoping it wouldn't. The Emma he knew would never keep something that wasn't hers, but this locket was different. It actually _was_ hers. Her parents had given it to her on her eighth birthday. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but it was the only explanation. And if that was true, then it was her last and only connection to her parents. He couldn't take that from her.

"Emma, wait-"

"It's a deal."

* * *

 **A/N:** The journey is on. I hope to update again soon. I'm excited for some of the things planned in the next two chapters...let's just say that the chapters six and seven will be "Evil Will Find Her" and "Her Nightmares Are Real" and that they will closely follow some events from the movie. That's all I'm saying. Please review!


	6. Evil Will Find Her

**A/N:** Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

 **A/N:** Happy Gremma Appreciation Week, everyone! Thanks to **Kristy** for doing such a great job organizing it, as always. Thanks also to **skagengiirl** for creating a totally squee-worthy fan-vid to "At the Beginning" and dedicating it to me - everyone should check it out on tumblr. And of course, a very sincere thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. Special shoutout to new reviewers **Chlollie** and **Emmafan** \- welcome to the party! Hope you enjoy the ride.

Thanks to Melissa for cleaning up my sentences, per usual.

* * *

Regina stormed all the way to Graham's room. She longed to close her fingers around the Dark One's throat and squeeze for how much grief he had caused her. Resurrecting the beans was bad enough (how was that even _possible_?) but the fact that he'd dumped the remaining dust in Graham's bedroom was criminal. What if Graham had figured out that the specks could be useful? What if – Regina swallowed hard at the thought – Rumpelstiltskin had actually told Graham just how powerful that dust could be? Regina shook her head. Graham had no magical powers whatsoever. There was no way he could have made a bunch of lint do anything, even if Rumpelstiltskin had given him instructions.

She shoved open the door to Graham's room with a bang. Of course, there was dust all over the floor. Regina seethed. What if none of this dust was magical at all? Perhaps Rumpelstiltskin had lied and only told her it was there because it would greatly amuse him to imagine her crawling around on her hands and knees, like a common peasant.

As she waved her hand over the ground, however, she could tell that Rumpelstiltskin hadn't been lying. Some of the dust was ordinary, but other bits were clearly the remnants of powerful magic. She wouldn't be able to resurrect a bean that could jump portals, but that wasn't strictly necessary, she realized. There were much more effective ways to solve her Emma problem than jumping through portals, trying to figure out which world Graham had gotten into. Besides, she could hardly leave her kingdom now. No, her best strategy was to make sure that Emma never set foot in the Enchanted Forest again.

And if it meant that Graham never did either…Regina's fingers curled around the remains of the magic beans.

So be it.

* * *

"So, what's the plan?"

Graham nearly choked on his eggs. "The plan?"

"You know." Emma dropped her voice. "For returning _this_."

Graham shifted uncomfortably. She was still wearing the locket, but not for lack of trying on her part – as soon as she'd felt it wasn't hers, she had wanted to take it off. He'd only managed to convince her to keep it on by arguing it was safest around her neck. The locket no longer represented her parents or her past, but at least it still represented something she cared about – money.

"Well, we're going to have to figure out how to get back to the king," Graham began slowly.

"And where's the king now?"

Graham took another bite of eggs to avoid answering right away. He'd managed to fend off her immediate questions yesterday by talking about other things, like how she'd met Frosty and how long she'd been in "juvie." But now that she had cornered him at this diner, with their pets back in the woods, he could hardly continue to distract her by asking her to talk about herself. Besides, he wasn't any more willing to answer questions about his own life than ones about the necklace and mysterious princess to whom it belonged.

"He's here," he said finally.

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Here in this diner?"

"No," Graham said. "But he's in the country."

"Why?"

Graham swallowed. "He's looking for his daughter." He tried not to make it sound like a question.

"I thought you said no one knows what happened to her," Emma pointed out.

"Right." Graham's stomach twisted. "No one knows for sure. But her mother died when she was young, and she is all the king has left. So he wants to find her. He's never stopped looking, even though she's been missing for ten years."

Emma's brow unfurled, and Graham inwardly exhaled. It was much easier to tell Emma the truth — or parts of it anyway. If Charming was alive, Graham was sure that he was looking for Emma. But at the same time, he knew he was just digging himself deeper into the hole. He wasn't just making up a random story about a princess' life. He was telling Emma _her_ story, without telling her that it was hers. Somehow that felt worse. Emma had told him yesterday that there were things in her life she couldn't remember; he remembered how badly she had wanted him to admit that he knew her, and tell her from where. But he couldn't do it.

His cowardice made him sick.

"Graham?"

With great effort, he pulled himself back to the present. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked where he was in this country – what state he's in," Emma explained.

What _state_?

"I'm not sure," Graham admitted. His heart had begun to hammer painfully in his chest. "I think he was going to try lots of them."

To his relief, Emma nodded. "That makes sense. Do you know where he was going to start?"

"Um – one of the popular ones, I think. A nice state with lots of sunshine."

"Florida? Texas? California?"

"Florida," Graham decided. "That sounds right."

Emma's eyes lit up. "I've always wanted to go to Florida."

"Great." Graham smiled weakly.

 _How do we get there?_

But Emma answered his unspoken question. She threw down some bills that Frosty had collected on the table and stood up. "Come on," she said, extending her hand. "It's time to find a car."

* * *

It had taken an hour of scouring the floor, but Regina had finally managed to scrounge up a handful of magical dust. She sank down on Graham's bed, examining the specks carefully, caressing them with her long fingers. Then she began to swirl the dust around her palm, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, repeating the movement until she had managed to form a small ring. She waved her other hand over the ring, and the ring expanded, forming a large circle that floated in front of her face.

"Show me Graham," she muttered. "Let me see my pet."

The particles began to swirl. Regina leaned forward eagerly. Graham was walking through a forest, and he appeared to be alone. She didn't recognize the world he was in, but she could at least be sure it wasn't the world without color, seeing as the leaves and grass were green. The world itself hardly mattered, since she wouldn't be going there. All she needed to do was keep close enough tabs on his progress to ensure he hadn't managed to find Emma.

As she watched, Graham looked over his shoulder at something she couldn't see. Regina held her breath, but it turned out he was only waiting for Ghost. The wolf trotted up to him and settled down at his feet. Graham's lips were moving, forming words she couldn't hear. Regina shook her head. _Pathetic._ The boy who only talked to wolves.

But _was_ it only Ghost? Graham was smiling at something, and it wasn't the wolf at his side. Regina peered closer, but she couldn't see what he was looking at. "Move," she growled, trying to shift the image so that she could see more of the scene. The particles remained fixed. Regina clenched her teeth. "Come on!"

Ghost had gotten to her feet, and now Graham was moving, too. Regina waited, hardly daring to breathe. If she could just confirm that the girl was not with him, then she could relax, and wait to try again tomorrow. Any minute now, closer, closer…

"NO!"

* * *

Emma grinned as she pushed down on the gas. It had been so long since she'd driven. Truth be told, she wasn't sure her license was even valid anymore, but that was just one more reason to make sure she and Graham didn't get pulled over by the police. She'd hotwired a beat-up yellow bug that most likely no one would miss, but there was still a chance that the owner would report it stolen. She'd considered swapping the license plates, but she had the sense that doing so wouldn't sit well with Graham (who, she had to admit, looked like he'd never stolen so much as a bread crumb in his life). As long as they kept to back roads and didn't violate any traffic laws, they would be fine.

In the backseat, Frosty began to whine. Before Emma could react, Graham had reached back and pulled Frosty into his lap in the front seat. Frosty settled down at once, clearly pleased with the upgrade. Emma smiled to herself.

"So, um, how are getting to Florida?" Graham asked.

"Besides driving, you mean?"

"Well – yeah, besides that. I meant, like, what roads are we going to take?"

"The most direct route from Boston is I-95," Emma explained. "But we're going to take a more, ah, scenic route."

She felt Graham's quizzical stare, but didn't turn to look at him. There was something about his questions that suggested he actually had no idea what he was saying. She couldn't help wondering if he even knew how to drive a car. He certainly hadn't known how to hotwire one.

Then again, that wasn't exactly a skill she was proud of.

"Where did you grow up?" Emma asked. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," Graham said. "I'm not." He paused, and Emma waited. She wanted to know, but she didn't want to push. She had a feeling that she could catch him in a lie easily, but didn't want to force him into one. He was clearly hiding something, and she was dying to know what. But she also knew that she herself was hiding things, and had no more right to know what had happened in his past than he had to know what happened in hers.

"I'm from a lot of places," Graham answered finally. "The truth is, I never really knew my parents. I grew up an orphan. Eventually there was a family that took me in, but I wasn't – I worked in the kitchen; they didn't make me their son or anything."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It's not like – I mean, it's not like they didn't care."

He loved them; she could hear it in his tone. He loved them even though they hadn't loved him in return. Not the same way.

"I had a family like that, too," Emma offered. "My first foster home. They were nice."

"What happened to them?"

"Nothing," she replied. "They had their own baby. And after that, they didn't need me anymore. They wanted to raise one from birth. I was already eight when I came to them."

"Where were you before that?" Graham wanted to know.

 _Nowhere._

"With my real parents, I guess," Emma tried to brush his question off. "I don't really know. That's the part of my life I don't remember."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," she said automatically. She was as used to ignoring apologies as she was to hearing them. It wasn't anyone's fault that she was where she was – well, she supposed it was someone's, but she'd long given up on being angry at a faceless person.

"I can still be sorry."

Emma glanced over at him as she pulled to a stop at a red light. She was surprised to see that he really did look sorry, like her past was more depressing to him than it was to her. Graham's head was low, his eyes focused on Frosty's fur. Behind them, Ghost gave a low whine. Once the light turned, Emma pulled off onto the shoulder of the road.

"Hey," she said, turning fully to face Graham and her dog. "Are you okay?"

He looked up, his dark eyes full of pain. Emma bit her lip. Emotions in others made her uncomfortable, since she was so good at hiding her own. She had no idea what to say. No one had ever been this affected by her childhood before. Everyone else in foster care had sob stories that were just as bad, if not worse.

 _Worse._

Emma could have hit herself. Of course he wasn't thinking about her. He was remembering his own childhood, with the family that took him in but made him work for them. At least her first foster family had the decency to send her away instead of making her work as the new baby's maid. It hurt when they gave her back to the social worker, but it might have hurt even more if she'd stayed.

"Hey," she repeated softly. She hesitated, and then reached out to cover one of Graham's hands with her own. "It sounds like both our childhoods kind of sucked. I don't like to think about mine, and yours sounds even worse." She paused. "It's going to be okay now, though. We just have to keep moving forward."

He was silent for a long moment. Then she saw him swallow. "Okay."

Emma offered him a small smile. "Things are going to get better. Once we find the king and give him this locket, you'll have some money. You can start your own life, be your own person."

Graham finally smiled back. "So can you."

* * *

It had to be done.

She wasn't waiting to find out if that girl with long blonde hair was Emma or not. Regina had no idea what the former princess looked like now, and there was no way to find out for sure. Well –of course _he_ would know what she looked like. But she wasn't asking him for anything else if she could help it.

It was bad enough that she'd needed him to explain to her what the strange yellow thing was.

"A car!" he cackled, eyes alight with glee that he had known something she had not.

Regina pursed her lips. She could keep him prisoner, but they both knew that she couldn't take away his knowledge of hundreds of years of living. She needed him. He might be actively working against her, aiding and abetting Graham in what was going to be a suicide mission, but she couldn't let him go.

"And how, exactly, does that help me?" she sneered.

He explained the inner workings of that beast he called a car in such detail that she was sure he had been in one once. She had to trust that he was telling her the truth about what all the cables and wires did, since it was all foreign to her. She managed to follow his instructions (loathing him every second) and cut what he said to cut.

Now all she could do was wait for it to work.

"Revenge will be sweet, dearie!" he called out to her as she left. "Terror's the least you can do."

* * *

Graham squirmed in his seat, unable to sleep. Emma was curled into a ball, her head resting against the window, Frosty at her feet. Her slow, even breathing filled the dark car. He was glad that at least one of them could rest. It was hard to be physically exhausted after doing nothing but sit in a car all day, but it was impossible to sleep when his mind was still reeling from everything that Emma had told him earlier.

He hadn't expected her to affect him like this. He supposed it must be strange for her, to have a complete stranger close to tears just because she couldn't remember the first several years of her life. But the wistful tone when she spoke, the note of pain that he could hear, despite her attempts to hide it – that hurt. It killed him that she didn't believe it was his fault.

It was _all_ his fault.

Could she really not remember anything? As far as he knew, jumping through worlds didn't damage memories. Had the Dark One done something to the bean that had sent Emma into this world? Or was the experience so traumatic that she had simply blocked it out? Or…Graham swallowed. What if she did remember, but couldn't believe? Anything she remembered until age eight would have been so unbelievable, that perhaps she would rather not remember anything at all.

He didn't know what struck him more: how similar their childhoods had been, or the fact that hers should never have resembled his in any way. She had two loving parents; he had been raised by wolves. By sending her into this world, he had ripped her away from the life that she had known, throwing her to the mercy of people who would abandon her at the first chance they got.

Graham felt Ghost's wet nose on his neck, and he turned. His wolf stared back at him.

"Fine," he whispered, resting his head on her fur. "So it's Regina's fault, not mine. What difference does it make?"

None, as far as he could tell.

The more time he spent with her, the more he glimpsed the old Emma beneath this one's walls. Emma had always been fiercely independent, and now she was even more so. He got the sense that she hadn't spent this much time in a single person's company in years. She was used to being alone. He smiled wryly. Turns out they had that in common, too.

What would he give to be able to tell her the truth? To explain everything from the beginning, beg her forgiveness for all of the terrible foster homes she'd been in? To remind her that she had a family that loved her, two parents who were good (even if only one was still alive); to share his own memories of their childhood since she no longer had some of her own? He could tell her about the games of hide and seek she played every year on her birthday, or the long afternoons they used to spend in the library together when he wasn't needed in the kitchens. He could hum the tune that she used to play on the piano. Maybe she would even hum it, too.

But he could already see what her reaction would be. She might be with him now, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was two seconds away from bolting. All she needed was a reason. Him telling stories about growing up in the Enchanted Forest with magic and evil queens more than qualified.

At the same time…He sensed that she knew something was off with him, almost as if she knew that he had no idea how to drive a car, or where Florida was relative to Boston, or even if Boston was a town or a state. And despite all that, she hadn't asked. Graham took heart in that. She could have easily pushed him away, but she was keeping him around. He knew it was too much to hope for, but he wanted to believe that it was because she knew how important this was to him.

He doubted it was because she knew how important _she_ was to him.

He'd always loved her. From the moment she had extended her hand to him in the stables, he'd felt her kindness and warmth. It wasn't until she was gone that he realized how much he missed having her around, how much she had meant to him. She probably never even knew how he felt. But that was fine with him; all he'd ever wanted was to make her happy. And the fact that she wasn't happy now…it hurt him more than she could ever know.

Suddenly, Ghost sat up, her ears alert. Graham recognized the pose. Something was coming. He hesitated, wondering if he should wake Emma. Was Ghost onto a squirrel, or was there something more sinister in the forest?

But then, Ghost began to whimper, and Graham knew something was wrong. He reached over and shook Emma awake.

"What – what's happening?"

"I don't know," Graham said as Emma straightened up and Frosty clambered onto the seat next to her. "Ghost heard something. Do you think we should move?"

"Um, sure," Emma said slowly. He could tell that she wasn't quite awake yet, but his own trepidation was increasing. Ghost hadn't stopped whimpering, although he couldn't see what the wolf was looking at. Whatever it was, he wanted to get away from it as quickly as possible. It was a relief when the engine roared to life and Emma turned out of the rest stop where they had parked.

"Thanks," Graham said.

"No problem," Emma yawned. "What do you think it was?"

"I don't know," Graham said. He glanced back at Ghost. Even now, she was hyper-alert, but it was too dark to read anything in her expression.

"Stop, stop!"

Graham looked around wildly. Emma was slamming her foot onto one of the pedals, but the car continued to roll. Frosty began to bark as the car picked up speed.

"What's happening?" Graham asked.

"It won't stop!" Emma cried. "Something's wrong with the brakes!"

"What do we do?"

"I don't – I mean-" He saw her take a breath, collecting herself. "It should be okay. We should be able to coast to a stop."

"We're picking up speed," Graham noticed. He glanced out the window. "Are we going downhill?"

"You're right," Emma groaned. "We have to get out of here!"

"How?"

"We're going to have to jump." Emma was already gathering Frosty into her arms.

"Did you say _jump_?"

"Out your side, yes," Emma said. "Hurry! Open the door."

Graham thought this sounded like a terrible idea, but did as he was told. As soon as the door was opened, Ghost leaped out of the car. Graham quickly followed. He closed his eyes and tumbled onto dead leaves and sticks. The impact was harder than he was expecting, and he kept his eyes shut as he rolled over, wincing as the sharp sticks poked into his back. He heard Emma land somewhere next to him, Frosty's cry piercing the night. For a moment, there was silence, but it was broken suddenly by the sound of metal crashing into wood, followed by the roar of flames.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope everyone enjoyed the one liners from the epic villain song "In the Dark of the Night" - had lots of fun with that one. That theme will continue with more events inspired by the movie in the next chapter ("Her Nightmares Are Real") which I will try really, really hard to post before the end of Appreciation Week. Motivate my muse with a review!


	7. Her Nightmares Are Real

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing you recognize from the show.

 **A/N:** *insert standard apology here* It's been a busy summer. I had a huge hurdle to clear in my program (which I did!) so I'm finally back to writing. I have already started the next chapter, so try not to despair too much at the cliffhanger at the end (is it a real cliffhanger if you've seen the movie and know what happens...?) This is my favorite chapter, I think. The format is a little different than past chapters, but I hope you enjoy it, too.

Thank you so, so much to everyone who is reading/reviewing/following this story (and me!) You are all the best. Special thanks also to my favorite beta Melissa for her expert work, even though she couldn't figure out the piano song/song that the music box plays. (If you have a guess, I'd love to hear about it. Special internet cookies to the first person to get the song correctly!)

* * *

 _She was used to it being quiet this early in the morning. As she crept down the hall to the music room, she was engulfed in the warm, orange light of the sunrise streaming in through the high glass windows. For a moment, she paused, drinking in the view of the lake and mountains from the castle. The view would never get old._

 _Light flooded the music room as she pulled back the curtains and then walked over to the bench. She ran her hand along the smooth wood before sitting down and pushing the cover up from the keys. The melody came to her quickly, a tune she had long since committed to memory. She allowed her eyes to close as her fingers danced along the keys, a smile gracing her lips, as she remembered the stories._

 _A bandit running through the forest. A shepherd turned into a prince. A battle for the castle, a clash of good against evil, over which only true love could prevail. The unbreakable bond between two partners who were made for each other, who lived for each other, that could not be fully captured by words, but could be by chords._

 _The music was the sound of true love._

"Emma!"

Graham scrambled to his feet. Emma was lying several feet away from him on the other side of the road. For one terrifying moment, he thought she was too hurt to move, but then he saw her sit up. Ghost joined him as he reached where Emma and Frosty were. By the light of the flames burning in the distance, he could see Emma pressing one of her hands to her forehead.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.

Emma nodded. "I think so." She pulled her hand back from her forehead. "Damn."

Emma's palm was covered with blood. Without asking, Graham reached for her chin and tilted her face toward his so that he could examine the cut. He frowned, squinting in the darkness. He touched the scrape as gently as he could, brushing gravel from the wound. He felt Emma wince. "Sorry," he murmured.

"Is it bad?"

"I don't think so," Graham said. "But I can't really see." Ghost nudged him. He saw that she had deposited Anna's backpack next to them. Graham pulled open the drawstring and felt around inside. After a moment, he pulled out a lantern and small package of matches. He quickly struck a match and lit the lantern.

"It's not too bad," he said, holding the light up to the wound. "If we can clean it and cover it with something, that will probably be good for now."

Emma nodded. "Do you have anything in there?" she asked, pointing to the backpack.

Graham dumped the contents onto the road. He sorted through them, and quickly found a long strip of cloth and a small bottle labeled "For cuts and scrapes." Graham smiled to himself. Of course Anna would have thought of everything.

He gave the lantern to Emma as he worked on cleaning the cut. Graham tried to focus on the wound and ignore the intense feeling of Emma's eyes tracking him, watching his every move. He was relieved to see once all the gravel was removed, that the scrape wasn't deep. It had mostly stopped bleeding by the time he pressed the cloth to the wound, and tied it in place.

"There," he said, sitting back. "That should hold."

Emma felt her forehead. "Thanks."

"No problem," Graham said as he began repacking the supplies. He was about to close the backpack when Emma tapped something against his hand.

"Here," she said, offering him the jewelry box. "This is pretty. What is it?"

"Jewelry box," Graham replied, taking it from her. He hoped she didn't ask any more questions. He didn't really feel like explaining where he'd gotten it.

"Jewelry box," Emma repeated. "That's not your typical survival kit item." She paused. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

Graham frowned. "What else could it be?"

"I don't know," Emma said slowly. "Something else. Something…special."

Graham hesitated. There was something special about the jewelry box, in the sense it had whatever locator spell Rumpelstiltskin had cast on it. But how could Emma know that? She didn't even know there were other lands with magic.

"Maybe," Graham said noncommittedly, replacing the jewelry box into the sack. "Should we move somewhere?" he asked to change the topic of conversation. "At least get off the road?"

Emma nodded. "That's a good idea," she said, as she got to her feet. "We'll have to stay in the woods again tonight, I think. And then figure out what to do about the car in the morning." She squinted at the smoke. He could still hear the crackling of flames. "Or, you know, not. Let's get out of here."

"What happened?" Graham asked. "How could the brakes fail like that?"

"It was an old car," Emma said. "Maybe the brakes were faulty and the owner just didn't want to pay to get them fixed."

Ghost and Frosty led the way through the woods. Graham followed behind Emma, holding the lantern aloft, thinking about what she had said. He didn't know anything about cars; perhaps that really was what happened. But something didn't feel right. Even Emma had seemed shocked that the brakes had failed like that. And how could they have made it so far yesterday without any problems and have the brakes suddenly fail? It was almost like –

 _No,_ Graham told himself firmly. _It's not possible._ There was no way Regina could know he was here. No one knew, not even Rumpelstiltskin. And even if she did know, and had somehow made it here, she wouldn't have her magic.

 _Would she?_

Graham's stomach clenched. What had Ghost heard? Had Regina been sneaking around the woods tonight, trying to sabotage him? He shook his head. He would have seen her. Ghost would have smelled her. And at any rate, if Regina was close enough to sabotage the car, why wouldn't she just kill him and Emma? She wouldn't leave something like their deaths to chance. Not if she believed the rumors about Charming to be true.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!" Graham exclaimed. He hadn't realized that Ghost and Frosty had stopped; lost in thought, he'd walked straight into Emma. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"It's okay," Emma said, although she was frowning at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Graham said. "Are you?"

Emma nodded. "Should we make camp here?" she asked, gesturing to the clearing. "It already has the dogs' vote."

Graham laughed weakly. "Ghost has always been good at finding places to sleep." He smiled at his wolf, and although she blinked serenely back, her eyes were troubled. He couldn't talk to her now, but he could tell from her expression that she'd had the same thought as he.

Regina.

" _Beautiful."_

 _She turned around. Her father was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Thank you."_

" _Don't tell your mother I said this," he began as he made his way toward her, "but I think you play it even better than she does." She laughed as he leaned over to hug her. "Happy birthday, Emma."_

" _Thanks," she said, squeezing him back. She replaced the cover on the keys and pushed back the bench. "Where's Mom?"_

" _It's her turn this year."_

 _Emma blushed. "Isn't eighteen too old for hide and seek?"_

 _Her father only smiled. "You're never too old to be found."_

Morning dawned cold and damp. Emma shivered, drawing her knees to her chest. She felt Frosty stir next to her and wondered if he could sense the rain, too. The last thing they needed was to be caught in a storm.

As she sat up, she realized she wasn't the only one awake. Some feet away, she could see Graham huddled by a small fire, his chin on his knees. Ghost was sitting beside him, her head on his shoulder. As she made her way over to them, she couldn't help but marvel again at the unusual bond between Graham and his wolf.

Graham looked up as she drew near. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Emma reassured him as she sat down. Up close, she could see that Graham looked pale, his eyes swollen. She wondered if he'd slept at all.

"Are you cold?" Graham asked. "I'm sorry – I would have made the fire closer to you, but I didn't want the noise to-"

"I'm fine," Emma interrupted him. She bit her lip. "Are you?"

He hesitated. Emma waited, silently urging him to speak. She already knew something was wrong, but she didn't know what. She got the sense he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her. He was probably remembering that she had admitted she couldn't trust anyone—not even herself. How could she expect him to trust her, someone he barely knew, when she didn't either?

"I'm okay," he muttered.

It didn't take Ghost's low whine to know he was lying. Emma scooted toward him and leaned over so that she could meet his eyes. Gone were the eyes that had stared at her so intently last night, full of care and concern. Now she could see only darkness, a haunting, lingering sadness.

"I'm not going to run," she began. "I know I haven't always given you the most…dependable impression. But I'm not going to leave you."

"Maybe you should."

Emma frowned. "Why?"

"It's not safe."

Her frown deepened. "What's not safe?"

"Being here, with me."

"Because of what happened last night?" Emma asked. "With the brakes?" She shook her head. "That wasn't your fault. Things like that just happen. Unless…" she trailed off, then gasped. "I knew it! You cut the brakes so we'd be stuck here in these woods forever, fall in love, and have two children that we name after the dogs. Why didn't I think of that?"

Ghost snorted. She grinned at him, but Graham didn't smile back. Emma sighed. "Graham, I'm kidding. I know you didn't do anything to the brakes. It was just bad luck. We'll find another car."

"Maybe you should go on without me," Graham said. "I'm just holding you back from wherever you need to go."

"And miss out on my one and only chance of becoming rich? As if!" Emma rolled her eyes. "Besides, you're not holding me back from anything. That implies I actually had somewhere to go. Finding the king is literally the only purpose I've had in life for the first time in years."

"What if we don't find him?"

Emma shrugged. "Then we don't find him. What's the big deal?"

Graham sighed. "I just…I don't know." He dropped his gaze to his hands.

She moved closer, covering his hands with her own. "Is it Emma?"

He looked up, his eyes catching on the locket. She knew then that she was right. Graham hadn't mentioned knowing Emma personally, but she suddenly felt sure that he had. It wasn't just about the money. Money was nice, but it wasn't everything. It wasn't family. It wasn't love.

"You knew her."

 _You loved her._

"Yes," he said quietly.

Emma squeezed his hand. "Is she dead?"

Graham sighed. "I don't know."

" _Mom?"_

 _She wasn't in any of the usual hiding places. The library, the study…Emma even doubled back to the music room to make sure her mother hadn't snuck in there after she'd left. As she ran down the hallway to the dining room, she noticed the sky outside was dark, full of threatening storm clouds. She frowned. Her mother wouldn't have hidden outside…or would she?_

 _Emma poked her head in the library where her father had been reading. "Dad?"_

 _But the library was deserted. Emma's frown deepened. Why would he leave?_

 _She saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Emma whirled around. Someone was moving in the hallway ahead. Emma hurried forward. Perhaps they would know where her parents were. She didn't want to play hide and seek anymore._

" _Dad?" she called after the figure. "Is that you?"_

 _Whoever it was didn't turn around. Emma continued to follow. Outside, the storm began to rage, thick raindrops splattering against the windows. In the distance, lightning flashed. Emma sped up._

" _Wait!" she called. "Stop!"_

They continued making their way down the side of the road, Frosty and Ghost leading the way. He knew that Emma wanted to find another car, but their chances were clearly slim while they were in the middle of nowhere. He didn't mind walking for a while anyway. Graham felt safer with his feet on the ground, free from the machine that Regina could so easily manipulate.

He didn't know it was possible, but his stomach was even more twisted with guilt this morning than it had been last night. While Emma had been sleeping, he had talked to Ghost, and, as he had suspected, she agreed with him that Regina was somehow at fault for whatever happened to the car. The only consolation was that Regina wasn't in this world, but it was a much smaller consolation now that he knew she could still get to them from the Enchanted Forest.

There was no way out. He couldn't convince Emma to leave, but it wasn't safe for her to stay. Maybe it'd be better if he'd never found her at all. He would live the rest of his life under Regina's control, but at least Emma would be safe. She wouldn't find her family, but she'd be alive. Even if he could bring her back to the Enchanted Forest, he would be leading her straight into Regina's path. If Regina was this willing to attack them from a world away, he could only imagine what she would do if they were in her backyard.

At the same time, he knew it wasn't fair. Emma clearly wanted a family. She had no memory of where she came from, what her life had been like, and why she no longer had her parents. She was left only to imagine the worst – that they'd never wanted her, never loved her – which couldn't be further from the truth. He had no right to decide for her whether it was better to live safely in ignorance or to know that her parents had loved her, that at least one of them was dead, and she might die, too, because of who she was.

He had to tell her the truth. But he couldn't do it, not yet. He should have told her earlier; he'd had a perfect window when she asked him if he'd known Emma. He said yes, but he could have explained how; he could even sense she had been waiting for him to go on. But his nerve had failed him, and he'd allowed them to sit in silence, with her holding his hand, comforting him, even though he didn't deserve her comfort.

He didn't deserve her at all.

 _There was a resounding boom of thunder, and then the lights went out. Emma gasped, too afraid to scream. She hadn't been paying attention to the direction she'd been running, and now found herself in a dark hallway with no sense of where to find a light. She backed up against the wall, trying to find a door knob. If she could figure out which rooms nearby, she would at least know which direction the kitchen and dining room were. Surely there would be matches in there._

" _Emma?"_

" _Mom?"_

 _Emma took a few steps forward, still keeping one hand on the wall to orient herself. Her mother's tone was worried. It sounded like she was close, but there was no light up ahead. Her mother had been caught off guard by the darkness, too._

" _Emma?" her mother repeated._

" _Emma?" her father echoed._

" _Mom! Dad!" Emma called, increasing her pace as she moved further down the hall. "Where are you?"_

" _Emma!"_

" _Emma!"_

 _Her parents' voices increased in pitch. Emma began to run. Something felt wrong. Where were they? Why hadn't they answered her?_

" _Emma!" her mother screamed. "Emma, help us!"_

By early afternoon, what had begun as a drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour. Emma was no longer concerned with finding a car, or even food, but with finding shelter as quickly as possible. The roads were beginning to flood.

"There!" she shouted finally, pointing to a truck parked on the side of the road up ahead. Its lights were off, and it looked abandoned. Graham hurried after her.

The door wasn't even locked. Emma slid into the driver's seat, but there were no keys. She opened the door again and poked her head out. The front tire was completely flat.

She slammed the door shut again. "Great."

"What's wrong?" Graham asked as Frosty and Ghost clambered into the car.

"It's got a flat tire." Emma sat back and crossed her arms. "And the driver took the keys. He probably went for help."

"Wouldn't he be worried about his truck?"

Emma shook her head. "Kind of hard to steal a car with a flat." She sighed. "Let's just wait out the storm in here. That driver's not coming back anytime soon, not in this weather."

"At least we won't be any wetter," Graham said bracingly.

"That's something," Emma agreed. She sighed again as Frosty crawled into her lap.

Graham turned to look at her. "How's your head?"

Emma felt the wound on her forehead. "Seems okay," she said. "How does it look?"

His eyes flicked up. She tried not to blush as he gently touched her chin and tilted her head towards his. He reached up and pulled the cloth away. "It looks okay."

Emma smiled. "Must be your healing powers." She saw Graham's lips curl, and her smile widened. "There's the smile I was waiting for."

Graham blushed and looked away. "Are you hungry?" he asked, keeping his eyes low. "Ghost will be able to find something." At this, the wolf raised her head.

Her stomach was rumbling, but she didn't want to send Ghost out in this storm. "I'm okay."

Ghost made a skeptical noise. Graham's smile widened, and Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine," she conceded. "But what's she going to find in this weather, anyway?"

Graham shrugged. "Berries, I suppose? She can find meat, too, but it will be hard to cook that until the rain stops."

Emma glanced at the wolf. Ghost didn't seem too bothered (as far as she could tell, anyway) by having to go out in a downpour. It wasn't like wolves weren't used to being outside in all kinds of weather. Berries would at least be something to hold her over, and Frosty was probably starving, too…

"Okay," Emma relented. "Maybe some berries for us, and meat for her and Frosty."

At this, Ghost stood up. Graham patted his dog on the head before opening the door and sending her out into the storm. It was hard to tell, but Emma thought the rain might have picked up just in the short time they'd been sitting in the truck.

"She'll be okay," Graham reassured her as he shut the door again. "She's been through much worse, believe me."

"Where did you find her?" Emma asked. When Graham gave her a questioning look, she added, "It's kind of uncommon to have a wolf as a pet."

"Oh." Graham looked at his hands. "I guess I just kind of…found her. In the forest. Where'd you find Frosty?"

Emma scratched her dog behind the ears. "The same, I guess. I found him in the woods after I ran away from a rest stop."

"Why'd you run away?" Graham wanted to know.

"I don't know." Emma sighed. "No, I do know. I just – I didn't want to be a nobody anymore. If I stayed on the bus, they were just going to deposit me somewhere and I'd be back where I'd started. I thought, if I left, maybe I would find…" She trailed off, staring at Frosty as the sleepy dog repositioned himself in her lap.

"Find what?" Graham prompted her after a moment.

Emma smiled sadly. "My family."

" _Where are you?" Emma shouted. "Mom? Dad?" Her hand caught on a door knob, which she immediately tried to turn. The door was locked. "Answer me!" she demanded._

" _Stop!" her father yelled. "What do you think you're doing?"_

" _Dad!" Emma screamed. The fear and anger in her father's voice terrified her even more. "Where are you?"_

 _The next door she tried was unlocked. She was so surprised, she hardly registered the fact that she was suddenly outside, her skin immediately soaked with rain. A flash of lightning illuminated the grounds, and she saw a tall figure standing by the lake._

" _Emma!"_

" _Mom! Dad!" Emma raced forward, slipping in the mud. She fell to the ground, but got up quickly, still heading for the lake. Her parents continued to scream her name, but their voices sounded like they were getting further away, even as she drew closer and closer to the lake._

" _So long, Charmings," an evil voice cackled. "No one can save you now."_

The hardest part had been the waiting. She wasn't giving them any more chances to thwart her plans. Graham and his wolf were far too resourceful for their own good.

But the wolf was gone now, and Graham was asleep. Emma was struggling to keep her eyes open. Regina's smile widened as she watched this futile attempt.

"There, pet," she whispered, coaxing some of the dust through the portal. "I'll get inside your mind, where you can't escape me."

Slowly, gently, Emma's eyes slid shut. Regina waited a minute to make sure Emma was really asleep, before she began to act. The girl was so easy to control. Regina found it quite satisfying to create these false images, the lull of a false sense of security, before ripping it all away. She crafted the story easily, her knowledge of the castle so exact. They never knew how much attention she had been paying to all their ridiculous birthday traditions.

"Time to play."

Like a pathetic puppet, Emma did exactly what she demanded. The girl opened the car door and tumbled out onto the slick road. Her clothes were immediately soaked, but this hardly seemed to bother her. Regina couldn't help but laugh.

"You're about to get a lot wetter than that."

The girl began to run, and the water began to deepen. It had clearly been raining for several hours now, and wherever they had hidden clearly had poor drainage. The ground was completely flooded. The water had nowhere to run.

And now, neither would she.

"So long, Charmings," Regina cackled. "No one can save you now."

" _Wanna bet?" Emma yelled, slamming into the figure at the side of the lake. "Move!"_

 _With the storm, the lake was completely saturated, the water rushing faster than she'd ever seen it. She immediately figured out why it sounded like her parents' voices were coming from far away. Both of them were traveling downstream, their heads just bobbing above the water._

" _Emma!" they screamed._

 _She had to do something. Quickly, she pulled off her shoes and coat so they wouldn't weigh her down._

" _I'm coming!" She bent her knees and prepared to jump._

" _Emma!" a new voice shouted. "Emma, stop!"_

 _She closed her eyes and leapt._

"Emma, no!"

* * *

 **A/N:** As I said, I'm going to make a real effort to post chapter 8 this month (i.e. September). Encourage my muse with a review!


	8. When the Storm is Through

**Disclaimer:** Still own nothing you recognize from the show.

 **A/N:** Well, it took a month. But here it is! In my defense I was working on this chapter for the whole month...I wanted to get these reveals just right. Don't hate me for the end of the chapter; I've started chapter nine already so hopefully I can get that up soon. The goal is still to finish the piece by December 31, 2016. Let's see how that goes.

Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. You keep me going when writing gets tough/inspiration is lacking. Thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta Melissa who is way too obsessed about seating arrangements for her own good. Congratulations and warm wishes to skagengiirl, who had the closest guess on the music box theme (the answer is the Snowing theme, aka "Hope Will Return" or part of the Once orchestral suite. Imagine it played on a piano to get that sort of plunky tune). I know you've had a rough time lately, hon, but hang in there - I'm counting on you for word games. This one's for you!

* * *

He woke to the sound of Ghost whining. His eyes snapped open. Ghost was sitting on Emma's seat, soaking wet, a branch of berries at her paws. He immediately saw what was wrong.

"Emma!"

The car door was ajar, and Ghost couldn't have opened it herself. Graham brushed Frosty off him as he scrambled out of the car. The rain was worse than ever, and lightning flashed in the distance. He was already ankle-deep in water from all the flooding.

Ghost leapt out of the car, landing with a big splash. Frosty barked, preparing to follow suit, but Graham held the little dog back. The last thing he needed was for Emma to lose her dog.

"Stay here," he told Frosty. "I'll bring her back."

Frosty licked his hand, which Graham took to mean that he understood. He slammed the driver's door shut and turned around to look for Ghost. He was relieved to see that even with all the water, she could still track Emma's scent. The sky was unnaturally dark for the late afternoon, but he was able to follow Ghost easily as she led him deeper into the woods.

Why had Emma gone off into the forest? Why wouldn't she have woken him up? Unless… He froze. What if she couldn't? What if she was still asleep? Graham could have kicked himself for letting his guard down with Regina able to reach them.

Ghost yelped sharply, catching Graham's attention. He saw she was much farther ahead of him now, and he hurried forward. Emma was standing at what looked like the edge of a ravine. She was taking off her sweatshirt and shoes. Graham's heart leapt into his throat when he realized what she was going to do.

"Emma!" Graham shouted. "Emma, stop!" He sprinted toward her. Ghost was there, but he knew the wolf couldn't stop her from jumping; it was too risky. Graham lunged. "Emma, no!"

He landed on his stomach with an uncomfortable splash, his hand closing around air. Ghost leapt into the rushing river water. Graham exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw Emma resurface, supported by Ghost. Graham reached out to grab Ghost's collar as the wolf paddled back toward the bank.

"Emma!" Graham seized her under the arms and pulled her onto the shore. She was thrashing so much that he could barely hold her. "Emma!" he repeated, giving her a little shake. "Emma, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open. She blinked confusedly at him, and then her eyes widened. "My parents! I have to go back for them!"

"What?"

"I just – they're-" Emma gestured toward the water. He could see the exact moment when she realized what had happened, the way her arm sagged and dropped to her side, the way her lips pressed together as she tried to stop the tears from coming. Graham gently grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward him, pulling her into a hug.

"It was a dream," he said softly. "A nightmare." He pressed his cheek to the top of Emma's soaking hair, squeezing her tighter as she began to tremble. He wished there was more he could say, anything he could do, besides murmur the only words of comfort he knew to be true.

"You're safe now."

* * *

"NO!"

Her scream echoed off the stone walls as she stormed into the dungeon. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, his lips curled into a smile. He could barely suppress his glee at her outrage.

"Get up!" she snapped.

"Now, dearie," he began with a theatrical yawn. "That's no way to say hello. You should mind your man-"

"Don't you tell me what to mind," Regina growled as she lunged for his throat. Rumpelstiltskin leapt backward out of her reach, the smile on his face becoming more of a sneer.

"There have always been things you will never understand," he said testily. "Don't you know that by now?"

"Oh, please," Regina scoffed. "You're telling me he's fallen for that skinny little brat? Have you lost your mind?"

He shrugged. "You're the one who failed to drown her. You tell me."

Regina exhaled sharply through her nose, like an angry rhino trying to decide whether to charge. He kept his distance for good measure, curling his legs underneath him as he sat down at the back of his cell. It was all too perfect. Things were moving along much faster than he could have hoped. Of course, he knew that the boy loved her; that much had been obvious for ten years. He'd always been able to recognize a desperate soul.

"There, there, dearie," he simpered when he noticed Regina beginning to calm down. "All's not lost. You must know by now that you won't be able to touch her while he's around."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "And how, exactly, does that prove that all is not lost? He's never going to let her out of his sight again."

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I think you underestimate some powerful forces."

"Like love?" Regina snorted. "Please."

"Not love." His grin widened. "Guilt."

Regina raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "Guilt?"

"Yes, guilt," he continued. "You know, that thing that Snow White felt her whole life for what happened to Daniel? That sickening feeling that her poor husband – assuming he's alive – has felt every moment since her death, knowing it should have been him, that he should have done something, anything to stop you. That terrible burden of pain that even sweet Graham feels, knowing that he, an unwanted child, survived, when his best friend lost her the family who had loved her more than anything else in the world." He smirked. " _That_ guilt."

She'd never thought of it this way; that much was certain. She'd spent so much time trying to figure out how to kill her enemy, anything to prevent her from coming back, that she hadn't even considered the possibility of having someone else to the dirty work for her. That boy would never let Emma suffer because of him.

He had to tell her.

* * *

She could barely keep her eyes open as Graham half-led, half-dragged her back to the car. Her head was throbbing with a sharp, nauseating pain right between her eyes. She had never felt so cold.

"We're almost there."

"I'm sorry," Emma muttered. "So sorry, Graham."

"You don't have to be sorry about anything," he said, and she was surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "It's not your fault."

"It is," she replied. "I shouldn't have jumped. I don't know why – how could I have gone after my – why did I think that I could save-?"

Parents.

 _Twirling. Dancing. Light and color, ballrooms and gowns. He lifts her into the air; the little girl squeals with delight-_

"Stop!" Emma screwed up her face, trying to block the images out. "Stop, please."

"Emma?"

She felt someone shaking her arm, but it couldn't be the man spinning her around, or the woman smiling behind him-

"I keep seeing faces," Emma gasped. "So many faces."

"Come here," Graham said, tugging her. "Get in the car. It'll be okay." His tone was reassuring, but she could sense his unease. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside. Frosty scampered out of the way as she crawled over to the driver's seat and sank down. Graham closed the door behind them. As soon as she was out of the rain, the sense of cold seemed to double and Emma began to shake.

"Out of the clothes," Graham instructed. Emma didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed or awkward; the headache was so blinding she could barely think. With trembling fingers, she pulled her soaking shirt over her head. When she turned back around, Graham had his shirt off as well and was waiting with the winter coat.

"Come here," he said, opening the coat. Emma leaned into him, and he covered them both with the coat, wrapping his long arms around her trembling body. Frosty curled up on her legs under the coat, a miniature heater.

"Thanks," Emma murmured. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"You don't have to thank me," Graham said quietly.

"I do," Emma insisted. "You saved me. You found me. Thank you for finding me."

 _I will always find you._

 _A kind face. A loving smile. Words engraved on a locket-_

"Has that ever happened before?" Graham asked. "The sleepwalking, I mean?"

"No?" Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, still trying to shake the images from her mind's eye. "I don't know. Not that I can remember."

"That's okay." Graham tightened his arms around her. "It was just a nightmare."

 _A birthday present, lost forever-_

"Was it, though?" Emma wondered aloud. "It all felt so real, so familiar. I don't know what my parents looked like, but somehow I think that was them. It has to be them…wasn't it them?" She broke off with an awkward laugh, painfully aware of the fact she was rambling. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Graham reminded her.

She twisted around so she could look up at him. "I can't be sorry and I can't be thankful. What can I be?"

Graham stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he replied, "Safe."

It was dark, but she didn't miss the shadow of pain that clouded Graham's features. She reached up and gently touched his cheek. "I am safe."

He pressed his lips together, but didn't say anything. She could read more clearly than ever what she had suspected all along. He was tormented by memories, demons of a past that he couldn't forget, no matter how hard he tried.

"You are safe here, too," she whispered.

He closed one hand around hers, but still didn't speak. Ghost rested her head on Graham's shoulder from behind, and Emma was struck by how natural that gesture looked, like the wolf had been by his side for years, his only source of comfort.

 _Take my hand, she says. Come with me. I won't hurt you._

Until now.

"Will you, ah, tell me about her?" Emma asked, squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain washed over her. Graham looked at her questioningly. "About Emma, I mean."

"Are you in pain?" he asked instead.

"It's just a headache," Emma admitted. "It'll pass. And in the meantime, I could really use the distraction."

He wouldn't help himself, but maybe he would talk if he thought it was only helping her. Emma readjusted so that she was resting in the crook of Graham's neck, his chin on the top of her head. She felt him sigh, and then he finally began.

"She was my best friend."

* * *

He woke suddenly, soaking wet. It took him a long moment to realize he was soaked with sweat and not water, that the constricted feeling was not fear of drowning, but his bed sheets tangled around him. With his left hand, he pulled off the sheets and sat up, pressing his head into his hand.

The nightmares were always worse this time of year, but these seemed different, somehow. Drowning was new, although he supposed that had to do with the overwhelming guilt and anxiety that he felt in his waking hours. Snow had been there, too, but of course she had. Because even in – or especially in – his subconscious, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should have done something more to save her.

But _she_ was new. The blonde girl who stood at the shore, preparing to jump in. He knew who it was immediately; there was no mistaking that face. Ten years had made her taller, sadder, but her eyes were as familiar as ever. She was going to jump in to save them. She would always save them.

Charming shuddered involuntarily. As much as he longed to see Emma again, he knew she was safer in whatever world she was in. He was selfish for wanting her to come back; the only thing that awaited her here with him was misery and fear. He couldn't bring her mother back, or even protect her from the still powerful dark magic of the Evil Queen. He had shoved her through that portal ten years ago to save her, to give her the best chance of survival, of happiness, of life. He hated himself for wishing she would throw that all away to come back to him.

" _Don't be so hard on yourself."_

Charming didn't look up. He had learned long ago that Snow was never there, that the voice that sounded so much like hers was just in his head, buried deep in his subconscious.

"I can't help it," he muttered. "I feel so powerless."

 _He could picture her smiling sadly. "You must know by now it was never your sword that gave you power. It was your hope."_

But he'd never felt so hopeless.

"I can't."

* * *

He couldn't do it.

He knew what she wanted, and no matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was to help her, he couldn't lie to her like this. Not anymore. She was strong, but she felt so vulnerable in his arms, stripped of her armor, literally and metaphorically. She was finally opening up, and whether it was because she was in pain or genuinely desired to be close to him, he couldn't let her do it before she knew the truth.

The story came easily. The memories of growing up with her were the only things sustaining him over the past decade. He kept the details as general as he could, leaving out the barn where she'd found him freezing one winter night, for instance, or any mention of her parents. She was a girl he once knew, a girl he once loved, end of story.

But that wasn't the end, not even close. Because the girl he once knew was here, in this world, tormented by Regina from a land that she didn't even know existed. The longer Emma stayed with him, the more danger she was in. If he hadn't known that last night, he certainly knew it now. Regina had tried to make Emma kill herself. He shuddered inwardly. Regina had almost succeeded.

He had to tell her. She was starting to trust him, maybe she would give him time to explain. At the very least, she deserved to make an informed choice. And if she wanted to leave…At least she would be safe. It wouldn't be so bad. He could go back to Arendelle and be free from Regina forever. Graham shook his head. He knew he couldn't do that. If there was even a chance that Charming was still alive, then failing to come back, failing to bring Emma back, would doom them all.

He had to tell her.

"Graham?"

"Huh?"

He looked down. Emma was staring up at him expectantly. "You were saying…"

"Oh." Lost in thought, he hadn't even realized he'd stopped talking. "Sorry. I was just-"

"It's okay," she said. "It must be hard to talk about. You miss her so much."

Graham swallowed. "I do. But it's not that." His heart began to beat faster. Now was his chance. "It's not _just_ that."

"Okay," Emma said slowly. "What is it?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay," Emma repeated.

Graham shifted so he was sitting up straighter. "Promise me you won't – just promise to hear me out, okay? This is going to sound a little crazy."

Emma nodded, and she sat up straighter, too, her eyes focused intently on his. "I promise."

"I, um…" Graham's mouth suddenly went dry. "I haven't been completely honest with you. When you asked me about Princess Emma, the first time. You asked if I thought you were that princess."

"Yes?" Emma prompted him.

"Well." Graham swallowed again. "The truth is that I – I do. I think you are the missing princess."

Emma stared at him. She didn't pull away, didn't blink, just continued to keep her eyes fixed on his. He wondered if she had suspected this all along, if the fact that she couldn't remember anything about her past but possessed a locket that once belonged to the princess had clued her in. Or maybe it was the fact that a wolf had recognized her scent despite it being several years. Or was it – did she remember _him_?

"There was a boy," Emma began softly. "When we were coming back here, after I jumped, I kept seeing these images, these, I don't know what they were. They could have been memories, I guess. They were so vivid…I think they were my parents, mostly." Her voice caught in her throat. He saw that her eyes were shining with tears. "But there was a boy. He was young. I think I gave him my hand and he…" Emma paused to clear her throat. "Was that you?"

Graham nodded. "Yes."

"So," Emma continued, "you're saying that you're – you were my best friend?"

He was so nervous he could hardly breathe. "Yes."

"But then what – what happened to me?" Emma wanted to know. "What happened to my parents?"

Graham hesitated. "I don't-"

"You do!" Emma insisted. "You do know." She pulled away from him, and though her voice was rising, he could hear that it was fear—not anger—laced in her tone. She was afraid of him. She was afraid of what he might know. "Tell me!" she demanded.

It was one thing for her to believe she was the princess. He hadn't wanted to get into the rest of it now – he had wanted to work up to the parts about the Enchanted Forest, magic, portals to other realms, and evil queens that could crush hearts. The parts that would be much harder to believe because she'd grown up in the land without magic, and whatever she was remembering about her past, she hadn't remembered any of that. He could see her pupils dilate with fear, and her eyes were darting toward the car door as though wondering how best to escape.

"What happened to my parents, Graham?" Emma implored. "Are they dead?"

"I – your mother is," he answered quickly, painfully aware of how cruel this sounded. "I don't know about your father. But I think he's alive." Emma was quiet, taking this information in, and Graham seized the opportunity to press on. "That's why I came to find you. I wanted to bring you back to him-"

Emma's nostrils flared. "You _used_ me? I was all part of a con to get his money?"

"No, no!" Graham insisted. "There's no reward for the locket. It was never about the locket. I just said that because I needed time to tell you the truth, so you'd believe me-"

Emma pulled her still-damp sweatshirt over her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you care so much?" she asked in exasperation. "What does it _matter_ to you if I'm the princess or if I believe you or anything else? Why do you care at all?"

Why _didn't_ he care? There were so many reasons to give – _because it's my fault you're here; because your father needs you; because you're the only one who can defeat the Evil Queen_ – but those would get him nowhere. There would be time later for her to understand her destiny, her place in the Enchanted Forest, and to decide if that was what she wanted. But the most pressing reason for her to believe him, the reason he'd jumped through worlds to find her, the reason that Anna had been the first to voice aloud even though he'd known it all along, deep down, from the moment she had extended her hand to him in a frozen barn; _that_ reason.

He had to tell her.

"Because I love you."

* * *

 **A/N:** I know, I know, but that's not a real cliffy, we all knew that already, right? Please encourage my muse with a review, and I'll be back again soon.


	9. No One Ever Mentions Fear

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize from the show belongs to me.

 **A/N:** I know I'm a broken record, but I'll apologize again for the delay in posting. 2016 has been a much more hectic year than I thought.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, and for bearing with me on that cliffhanger. I also want to thank everyone who voted for this story as their favorite Gremma fic for Gremma Appreciation - it means so much to me that so many people are enjoying this story! I also want to give a shout out to **ArianaKristine** for organizing Gremma Appreciation, as always. This chapter is posted as my contribution to the cause.

Finally, special thanks to Melissa for betaing, despite being sick and my having a phone that won't receive her texts. It's been quite the struggle.

Please enjoy - and Happy Holidays to all!

* * *

This couldn't be happening.

She felt like she was suffocating. How could Graham be the boy she was just starting to remember? How could he know anything about her past? Why hadn't he said anything before now?

She didn't care that the sweatshirt was still wet. She suddenly felt so vulnerable, so exposed. Emma pulled the sweatshirt over her head and crossed her arms. Frosty moved off her legs as she scooted away from Graham. He was still talking, something about her father (a king?) and how the locket had just been a ploy to get her to stay with him. Her stomach twisted. She _knew_ she shouldn't have believed him so easily.

"Why do you care so much?" she interrupted him. "What does it _matter_ to you if I'm the princess or if I believe you? Why do you care at all?"

She knew it was harsh, but she didn't care. She hated herself for believing anything he said, for allowing him to comfort her, for cuddling with him. For trusting him. How many times did she promise herself she'd never be in this position again?

"Because I love you."

Emma snorted. "Right."

"It's true!" Graham insisted. "You were the first person to show me kindness."

 _Those sad, scared eyes blinking up at her. The fearless little girl extends her hand-_

"You found me in the stables one-"

"Stop it!" Emma snapped. "Just stop it!"

 _He smiles shyly at her. She takes his hand in hers; it's so cold._

"From the very beginning, you lied," she began angrily. "And I not only believed you, I actually…argh!" Emma cried out in frustration. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Please," Graham said, and she heard a note of panic in his voice. "Please, you have to believe me. I thought you'd want to know. You deserve to know the truth."

"The truth?" Emma repeated. "The truth is, I don't know who I am or where I came from or what to believe. The truth is that I thought I could trust you, but now you're telling me that you've known me your whole life and you let me believe you were some homeless stranger with a past you never wanted to discuss."

 _The truth is, I wanted to fall for you, and you were lying to me the entire time._

As much as she wanted to run, her anger kept her rooted to the spot.

 _The truth is, I'm scared you might be right._

"The truth is that I spent my whole life wondering why no one wanted me or loved me, and now you're telling me that my mother is dead and my father is, too, but you don't know or won't say why, so all you're really telling me is that I'll never see them, probably never speak to them, and-" Emma's voice caught in her throat.

 _My mother is dead._

 _My father probably is, too._

"Don't touch me!" she snapped as she felt Graham's hand on her arm. "Stay away from me!"

She'd known there had been a chance they were dead. It was only slightly better than the possibility that they never loved her, never wanted her in the first place. But now that she knew, for sure, that she would never see them, she suddenly wished they had abandoned her, even if it meant they never loved her.

She would never meet the dark-haired woman she'd called "Mom" in her nightmares; she would never again hear the voice of her father. She'd spent ten years holding onto a locket that made a false promise. No one would ever find her. Emma gripped the locket chain. She wanted to yank it from her neck, throw it away along with every other dream she'd had about one day meeting her family.

She had to know why.

"How did they die?"

Emma could barely get the words out, but she knew Graham had heard her. She saw the way that he flinched, clearly dreading the moment when he would have to tell her how they died. She wondered fleetingly if he had been there.

"You said I deserve to know the truth," she reminded him when he still hadn't answered, anger rising quickly. "What aren't you telling me?"

Graham looked at her sadly. "They were murdered," he admitted.

Emma's mouth went dry. "Where?"

"In your home."

"Who did it?"

"Your mother's stepmother."

" _She's here, she's here! The Evil Queen is here!"_

"Why?"

Graham wet his lips nervously. "I don't kn – revenge, I think," he amended, when Emma glared at him. "She and your mother had a long history."

Emma swallowed. "Where was I?"

" _Emma, go! We're coming!"_

"You escaped."

"How?"

"Your father saved you," Graham explained. "There was a secret passageway he knew about. When he heard that Regina – that's her name – was coming, he showed you the entrance and pushed you into it." Graham looked down. "You didn't want to go, but he made you. Both of your parents wanted to give you your best chance."

" _Go, now! We will find you!"_

 _A burst of light. Then – darkness. Nothing._

Emma blinked back tears. She clenched the locket harder, though no longer wanted to break the chain. Her parents had loved her. They had wanted to find her.

They had always wanted to find her.

"You were there, weren't you?" she whispered. Graham hesitated, then nodded. "Why?"

"I told you – you were my best friend," Graham explained. "You were the first person to show me kindness. I was around a lot."

"If we were best friends, why did it take you so long to find me?" Emma asked. "Why didn't you try to find me sooner?"

"I wanted to," Graham said. "I would have, but I – I didn't have any way to get to you. I didn't even know where you were-"

"What do you mean, you didn't know where I was?" Emma demanded. "I took some escape route out of a house. I was eight! How far could I have gone?"

He blinked at her. He didn't look angry, but – was that fear?

"I want to tell you," he began quietly. "But you have to promise me that you will listen, that you'll hear me out."

Emma huffed. "Right."

"Please, Emma." She was surprised to hear a note of panic in his voice. "Please don't run."

"Just tell me," she said impatiently. "Stop playing games!"

Graham exhaled. Then, slowly, he reached into the knapsack and pulled out the jewelry box. He handed it to her. "Do you remember this?"

"From two nights ago?"

"No," he said. "From ten years ago."

"No." Emma scrutinized the circular container. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"This was yours," Graham said. "Your parents gave it to you, for your eighth birthday. It's what led me to you."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "How's that?"

Graham glanced at Ghost. "You, and Ghost, and I – we're not from here. We're from a forest." He hesitated, clearly steeling himself. Emma felt a thrill of dread.

"It's called the Enchanted Forest. It's a different realm, one where magic is real. When you escaped, you didn't just leave your home." The words were coming in a rush now. "I opened a portal. You were transported to another world. That's how you ended up here. That's why it took me so long to find you. I didn't know where you were – and I had no way of jumping through portals. I was given this jewelry box, which would glow when I was near you, and a bag of magic beans that would take me between worlds. That's – that's how I found you."

Emma stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned and wrenched open the car door. Graham reached for her, but she threw the jewelry box in his face, and he recoiled with a yelp of pain. Frosty leapt out of the car, and she jumped out after him. She slammed the door behind them, but not before she caught Graham's last words.

"Emma, please! You have to know the truth!"

* * *

It was done.

Regina grinned, a smile stretching across her face. She could hardly believe her luck. This was her chance. Emma was alone, completely unprotected. And Graham, poor pet, was left heartbroken. She could hardly contain her glee.

"Ahem."

Rumpelstiltskin's throat-clearing caused her to turn. Her smile hardened when she saw that the imp looked – if it was even possible – even happier than she felt. "Yes?"

"Now, now, dearie, not that I don't love to see you happy-"

Regina snorted.

"—but don't you think you're forgetting just one teensy, tiny detail?"

Regina's eyebrows knitted together. "And what might that be?" she sneered.

"No need to take that tone with me," Rumpelstiltskin implored her. "I'm the one doing _you_ a favor, here."

"Not much of a favor if I have no idea what you're doing," Regina muttered.

"And you're not so deserving of any favors seeing as I'm still locked in this cage," he retorted. "But we all have to make exceptions."

"What are you on about?"

He merely blinked. "Nothing. Wouldn't want to rain on your parade, dearie. Besides, don't you have some murdering to do?"

Regina considered him. Part of her still wanted to throttle the imp until he told her whatever it was that he wanted to say. Assuming there even was anything to say. What if he was just wasting her time for no reason?

But the Dark One _always_ had a reason.

"You don't have anything to say at all. You're just trying to give her more time to escape, or Graham more time to find her." Her eyes bulged. "You _want_ them to win!"

"Paranoia doesn't suit you," he said, considering his fingernails, and appearing quite disinterested in her anger. "But I can't say I'd complain about being freed from this cage."

"Tell me what you're on about or I'll-"

"Tsk, tsk, dearie, if you really think I'm just wasting your time, surely youdon't want any more of it wasted?"

Regina scowled. It was no use arguing with the imp now; he either had nothing to say, or wouldn't tell her whatever it was. She turned on her heel and was halfway out the door before he spoke again.

"It won't work."

"What won't?" she asked, not turning around.

"Even if you kill her, you still won't have won."

Regina whirled around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's quite simple, dearie," he began softly. It irked her that he was deliberately quiet, forcing her to move closer. "You will only be safe once the entire royal line is eliminated."

Regina huffed. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Oh, I have no doubt what you think you're _trying_ to do," he cackled. "But it's not going to work. You see, in order to eliminate the royal line, you must kill everyone in it."

Regina's stomach roiled with anger. "What are you saying?"

Rumpelstiltskin giggled. "You already know."

"Tell me anyway!"

She couldn't quite mask the note of fear that came out. She knew that he had heard it, too, by the way his smile widened, like a cat that had finally caught its canary. He'd provoked her, and she'd let him. Was that all he wanted? She turned away, disgusted.

"Emma's not the only royal still alive."

* * *

"I dreamed about our daughter last night."

He was back at the snow drops, brushing the petal of the nearest one with his good hand. The ground was cold and somewhat damp, but he hardly noticed as he sank down next to the flowers. The dream was so fresh in his mind. He couldn't shake the sensation of drowning, the constricting fear as the water closed around him, the knowledge that death was imminent –

That she was trying to save them.

"She's beautiful, of course," he murmured. "But you already knew that, right?"

That had to have been her.

"I miss her so much." His voice broke. "And you – I've – we've – missed half her life. Maybe I should have tried to…I could have tried harder." He drew a shaky breath. "I could have found the Dark One. He might have known how to get to the other world. I could have found her. I should have found her."

" _Stop." She would cover his hand with hers. "It's not your fault."_

"It is," he insisted quietly. "I've never seen her so sad. She's all alone. I promised she wouldn't be alone."

 _We can't leave her alone. One of us has to be with her._

 _I promise._

"What if I never see her again?" His chest tightened. He rarely voiced that possibility aloud. The thought was too much to bear.

" _You'll see her again." He imagined her leaning into him, resting her head underneath his chin._

"How can you be sure?"

 _He could hear her laugh. "What do we always say?"_

He sighed. Their unofficial family motto, five words inscribed on the back of a locket she might not even still have. Five words said in desperation, with fierce conviction, as a prayer of thanks, as a soft murmur of comfort.

" _Say it." She'd look up at him. "I need to hear you say it."_

He pressed his lips together. Her voice was still familiar, even after all this time; her gaze so familiar it ached.

"I will always find you."

"How sweet."

Charming spun around, scrambling to his feet, his hand halfway to his sheath before remembering that he no longer carried a sword. He had just heard – but he couldn't have – she couldn't be here. It wasn't possible. He frowned, scanning his surroundings. It sounded like the voice had come from right behind him.

"Over here, pet."

He turned. He had one glimpse of her wide smile and raised hand before his world faded to black.

* * *

He stared up at the grimy ceiling of his cage, contemplating a particularly odd shape of dirt. He knew she would be back any minute. He could hardly contain his excitement. Watching her torment someone else was his second-favorite pastime, after tormenting her himself.

It had been worth it, finally divulging that secret about Charming. He'd kept it for ten years, waiting for the precise moment to drop that bombshell for maximum impact. It had to be now, just when she thought victory was finally hers. To have her triumph snatched away from her at the last second, to remind her that she still hadn't won, might never win…He relished the thought.

A flash of light announced her return. He quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

"Get up," she snapped. He opened his left eye a fraction of a sliver and grinned inwardly when he saw she wasn't talking to him.

"No."

He heard her snarl, and then the unmistakable sounds of Charming being forced to his feet by magic. He suppressed a giggle.

"And you."

He opened one eye, surveying her closely. "Me, dearie?"

"Yes, you," Regina growled. "I need your help."

Rumpelstiltskin opened both eyes and yawned deliberately. "What is it this time?"

Regina nudged Charming. "What do we do with him?"

.He smirked. "Since when do you want to do anything _with_ him? Surely _to_ him would be more fitting."

"Fine, to him, then."

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. "Surely you don't need my help with that, dearie." He clapped his hands together. "Squash him! Poison him! Rip out his heart." He giggled. "Do you need help deciding which method of death to use today?"

"I don't want to kill him…yet."

He pouted. "That's not nearly as fun."

Regina sneered. "Death is too easy. I want to make him suffer. The way I suffered."

Rumpelstiltskin eyed Charming. "I think he's already suffering. No wife, no daughter." His eyes glinted. "No sword."

"But a claim to the throne."

He shrugged. "Yes, I suppose there's that."

"I'm not taking any chances," Regina sneered. "I'm done with these magic beans. You know what they say, you want something done right…"

He suppressed another giggle. "You're going to the other world?"

"Exactly."

"And how, exactly, did you plan on getting there?"

"That's where you come in."

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. "Me, dearie? But you know I don't have any way to get there either. Those beans are nothing but dust."

"There are other ways to travel across worlds."

"There are," he acknowledged. "But you yourself said they don't exist. Jefferson's hat, the ship, the beans. All gone, too late. They're not coming back."

"The hat's not," Charming said suddenly.

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And how's that?"

"Yes, do tell," Regina sneered. "How is it you know something we don't?"

Charming seemed to realize his mistake at once. "I don't," he amended quickly. "I just-" He gasped as Regina plunged her hand into his chest. Rumpelstiltskin smirked when he saw what she was holding in her hand.

"That's it," she cooed, clenching his heart in her fist as Charming doubled over in pain. "Nice and easy. Just a little constriction there to loosen your tongue."

"Not too hard, dearie," he chided her from behind bars. "Wouldn't want you to accidentally kill him now."

Regina glared at him. "Please. I know what I'm doing." She released her grip on Charming's heart, and he collapsed on his right side. Rumpelstiltskin watched carefully as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position with his left arm. Regina tutted impatiently. "Shall we go again?"

"Dearie?" he called out over Charming's renewed groans. "You must know there's an easier way to, ah, persuade him."

Regina's eyes flickered toward him. "Yes?"

"You could always tell him to bring the hat to you. Since you are, after all, controlling his every move."

Regina stopped squeezing Charming's heart. "Of course," she said, smiling widely at her victim. "Oh yes, yes, yes." She brought Charming's heart closer to her mouth. "Bring me Jefferson's hat."

Charming got to his feet immediately and ran off. Rumpelstiltskin drummed his fingers against the metal bars of the cage. "You know how that hat works, don't you? How do you expect to make it back?"

"What do you mean?" Regina clamped down on his fingers. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's quite simple," he began, wrenching his hand out from under hers. "The same number must go as come back."

" _And_?"

" _And_ I would have thought that you want to take your dear pet back with you."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Regina said after a moment.

He smirked. "How's that?"

Regina's lips curled cruelly. "I'll just let him watch."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sigh...this is going to be one New Year's resolution I won't be keeping since there's little chance of the story being finished in 2016. I'm hoping to post another chapter this year though. Happy Holidays, everyone! How about you make my holiday season with a nice review? :)


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